The Exception To the Rule
by RileyAngel
Summary: Noah Puckerman didn't "do" girlfriends. He was strictly a brief encounter, first names only, "slam, bam, thank you, ma'am" kind of guy. That is…until he met Rachel Berry.
1. Chapter 1

**The Exception To the Rule**. Noah Puckerman didn't "do" girlfriends. He was strictly a brief encounter, first names only, "slam, bam, thank you, ma'am" kind of guy. That is…until he met Rachel Berry.

Thanks once again to Ryan Murphy, who has created characters upon which numerous stories can (and have) been built. These characters belong to Mr. Murphy, the story (and any new characters), to me. All (new character) names are strictly "made up"; if they inadvertently belong to someone, it was unintentional.

This is an "AU" story: Rachel grew up in Shaker Heights, rather than Lima, along with Santana Lopez and Kurt Hummel. Noah still grew up in Lima, along with Sam Evans and Brittany Pierce. Noah is a few years older than Rachel, and they have not previously crossed paths.

This started out to be a longish one-shot, but it evolved into a short multi-chapter. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 1

At 26, Rachel Berry was finally living her dream. She had graduated at the top of her class from Tisch, participating in numerous school productions, ranging from chorus line to featured roles and, finally, female lead. BFA and good reviews notwithstanding, breaking into the theater had been an uphill battle. Mixed in among the rejections were a couple of chorus jobs on Broadway, as well as more heavily featured parts further off (off-off-Broadway, that is). To supplement her income, she had sold handbags at Macy's, waited on table, substitute taught in several elementary schools for under-the-weather music teachers, and worked as a receptionist in a producer's office.

Her first true break came when she had been hired for a small part (basically chorus with a couple of throw-away lines) in "Mama Mia!". She had also been the understudy for "Sophie" and, as luck would (finally!) have it, the actress became pregnant and left the show, paving the way for Rachel to step in. To her surprise (and delight), attendance to the play picked up as word of her performance spread, and her agent began receiving offers for other opportunities.

Rachel remained with the production for close to a year when she received news that left her speechless (as her friend Kurt Hummel would sardonically observe, a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence); "Wicked" needed a new "Elphaba", and the producers were looking for a fresh(er) name and face. Their new "Glinda", Faye Rogers, was a daytime Emmy-winning actress with a recurring role on a soap opera and, therefore, was extremely well-known; her role had been back-burnered on the show specifically for her to take on this project. With a guaranteed box-office draw, they decided to take a (calculated) risk on a lesser-known actress who had the potential to be a break-out star. After observing her performance in "Mama Mia!", they had decided that Rachel was the perfect candidate, as long as she was interested.

Needless to say, "interested" was an understatement, and Rachel respectfully (and, actually, a little sadly) turned in her notice. Now, six months into one of her lifetime-dream roles, she was exactly where she wanted to be. She was getting rave reviews for her performance, some even comparing her (favorably, of course) to Idina Menzel, the originator of the role. Due to Ms. Rogers' fame, they had appeared (in costume, with the other principal actors) to perform on a couple of talk shows, and, since no "Wicked" ensemble was complete without an excerpt from "Defying Gravity", Rachel was receiving further critical acclaim and reaching a wider audience than those fortunate enough to attend a Broadway show. Yes, Rachel had reached a good place in her life.

To celebrate her six-month anniversary with the show, Rachel had gone out with her best friends Santana Lopez and Kurt Hummel. Once their orders had been taken and the salad served, Kurt opened the conversation: "Diva, you have to find yourself a man," he instructed. Santana nodded in agreement as Rachel stared at her friends in disbelief, mouth agape. "Kurt, I'll have you know I am perfectly happy with my current arrangement, and I'm certainly too busy at the moment to consider encumbering myself…"

"With all due respect, Rachel, you're protesting too much," Kurt interjected. "Mmmhmm," Santana uttered, nodding her head in agreement. "Come out with us to the club after dinner, Rach. I'm sure there'll be a ton of guys to pick from…" "Thanks all the same," Rachel acknowledged with a weary smile, "but I'm afraid I'll have to take a rain check. We have an extra matinee tomorrow, and I really need to get some sleep." "OK, we forgive you _this time_," Santana acknowledged, "but you need to get 'out there', again." "I will, San…I promise," Rachel avowed. Her friends dropped the topic (for the moment), and dinner continued smoothly.

* * *

The following day, the matinee performance was moving along extremely well. Present in the audience were several school groups, and the children seemed enthralled with the story thus far. Rachel always enjoyed it when the audience suspended their disbelief, and felt herself playing to that, enticing them further into the story unfolding onstage. They had just finished "Popular" when there was a loud "**POP**" offstage, and the theater went dark. A collective gasp was emitted from the audience, and the room became abuzz with the confused and concerned theater-goers.

Apparently, there had been an electrical short backstage, and a small electrical fire had broken out. The front of the house was notified, and ushers, stage hands, and anybody else available quickly entered the auditorium, manned with flashlights. Rachel bravely grabbed a flashlight from one of the crew backstage and made her way onstage. "Hi, everybody!" she began, using the flashlight to illuminate her face.

"It seems we are having some technical difficulties, and the remainder of today's performance will be cancelled." Responding to the instructions in her earpiece, she continued, "If you contact the box office, you'll be refunded in full or offered replacement tickets for an upcoming performance." She took a breath to steady herself; she faintly smelled smoke and was determined not to panic. "Please leave the theater in an orderly fashion. There are people on the floor who will help guide you safely outside. Thank you!" Rachel ended her announcement and exited the stage, following the beam the flashlight provided.

The stage door was opened, providing much-needed light, and as the remaining cast and crew hastily exited the building, Rachel moved in the opposite direction toward her dressing room, where her purse and other personal effects were locked up. She would need her keys, ID, and subway fare to get home, and she'd be damned if she was going to walk through the streets of New York with green skin and the (small) facial prostheses that enhanced her "witchy" appearance on the stage. As she approached her destination, she heard the sound of sirens punctuating the clatter of feet and muffled sound of hasty conversation. She unlocked her locker and removed her personal effects, and was about to head to the bathroom with a jar of cold cream and a towel when a fireman entered the space.

"Miss, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave, now," the fireman instructed. Rachel's back was to the man as she answered, "Excuse me, sir, is it alright if I remove this first?" she spun around to display herself in her resplendent, green glory and looked up into the most beautiful hazel eyes she had ever seen. The man eyed her up and down and chuckled, replying, "Sorry, Miss, but I'm afraid you'll need to go as is. This is a dangerous situation; please leave it to the professionals." Rachel straightened her back and tried to look as imposing as her petite frame would allow and replied, "I simply cannot be seen on the streets of New York in full makeup. Please allow me…" The fireman grinned, picking up Rachel and slinging her over his shoulder like one would a sack of potatoes. He grabbed her tote bag and headed swiftly toward the stage door.

Rachel was not going to go without a fight, and she began pummeling his back with her fists, kicking and yelling "Let me go you Neanderthal! Give me your name so I can report you to your superiors!" The fireman chuckled again, answering, "I'm Lieutenant Puckerman, FDNY, Engine 34, 440 West 38th Street. My commanding officer is Captain Mathers, and I'm more Cro-Magnon than Neanderthal, if you asked me." By this time, they were outside of the theater.

Lieutenant Puckerman placed Rachel gently on the ground and handed her the tote. In the afternoon light, she saw him clearly for the first time and she felt a tiny fluttering deep inside as she noticed how attractive he actually was. She smiled genuinely and attempted to cover for her outburst: "I'm sorry if I offended you, Lieutenant," she offered. "No problem, Miss," he replied with a grin. "I'd suggest that you go 'defy gravity', now, and leave this to the professionals." He returned to his duties, and Rachel began walking to her subway station, doing her best to ignore the stares, finger pointing, and cell-phone picture-taking that transpired during her journey.

* * *

Home at last, Rachel carefully removed her costume and hung it up for her next performance. Now dressed in yoga pants and an oft-washed NYU hoodie, and armed with a large jar of cold cream and an old towel, she entered her bathroom. First, she gently removed the pointier nose and chin "enhancers", gently placing them in a dish on the vanity. Now that her face was back to its usual proportions, she unzipped the hoodie, removed it, and then began liberally applying the cream to her hands (green arms fortunately courtesy of costuming rather than makeup), then upper torso, neck, and finally, face. Soon enough, Elphaba was no more, Rachel's clean face reflecting back at her from the bathroom mirror.

Rachel had just put the water up for tea when she heard a key turn in the lock. She glanced at the clock and realized that the dog-walker was returning from their afternoon walk. She entered the living room to be greeted by Larry Horowitz, the dog-walker and Maisie, her retired racing Greyhound. Larry unhooked the leash and Maisie trotted over to Rachel, her tail gently wagging, and buried her head in Rachel's thigh in a gesture of affection. "Hi, baby girl!" she greeted the dog, rubbing her gently behind the ears. "Thanks, Larry!" "You're welcome, Rachel," he replied. He picked up the envelope on the kitchen table, which she had left for him before she went to work. "Larry, I'm off for a couple of days. I'll call and let you know when I need you." "OK, Rachel; no worries," he cheerfully responded, and, with a quick pat to the dog and a wave to Rachel, he left the apartment for his next appointment.

Rachel made her tea and toasted a bagel, the dog following her like an adoring shadow. She finally sat down on the sofa, and the dog climbed into her (large) doggie bed, settled herself, and closed her eyes for a nap. Rachel had just picked up the TV remote when the phone rang. She noticed that the caller was Santana when she reached for the phone.

"Hi, San; what's up?" Rachel opened the conversation. "What's _up_?" Santana emoted. "OMG, Rachel, your theater was on fire, and all you can say is 'what's up? How are you?...Why didn't you call?...I was so worried…Kurt is frantic…" Rachel smiled; her friends were the best, there was no doubt. "Santana, calm down," she advised. "I'm fine. There was a small electrical fire, and the FDNY had everything well under control." She smiled to herself, thinking of the handsome fireman, and her mind drifted off momentarily.

"The news said you were very brave, going onstage to keep the audience calm rather than thinking of yourself. I'm proud of ya', kid," Santana complemented, bringing Rachel back to the present. "Thanks, San. It wasn't a big deal; I did what had to be done," she answered pragmatically. "The worst part was that I had to go home in full makeup," Rachel recounted. "How in Hell did that happen?" Santana incredulously retorted. "I was going to wash up, and this fireman stopped me…actually, he carried me out, kicking and screaming." Santana laughingly replied "That must'a been hilarious. So sorry I missed it." She paused briefly before continuing, "So, chica, what did he look like?"

A small smile crossed Rachel's face as she answered, "Actually, San, he was pretty cute. Tall, dark, nice looking…" "You obviously liked what you saw, girl," Santana observed. "Did he ask for your number, or what?" Rachel rolled her eyes before replying, "Santana, he was acting in the line of duty; beside, I was green as grass at the time…not exactly eye candy for the average man, that's for sure." "Too bad," Santana commiserated. "Did ya' at least get his name?"

"I was pretty agitated when he hoisted me over his shoulder, so I asked for his information to report him to his chief," she explained. Santana grinned at the description; it must have been quite a scene. "OK, give, what is it?" she curiously inquired. "He said his name is Puckerman, he's a lieutenant, and he works out of the station at West 38th street…Engine 34, I think he said," she answered matter-of-factly. "Puckerman? Rach, he must be Jewish…he sounds perfect," Santana exclaimed. "You definitely need to follow up on this, girl. It's like we told ya' the other night, you need to get back 'out there'."

Rachel smiled, primarily to herself. The man _was_ nice looking, responsible (considering his job, and all), age-appropriate (she guessed), and Jewish (not that it mattered…very much). "Desperate much, Santana?" Rachel teased. "Rachel, 'nothing ventured, nothing gained', my Papi always says," Santana gently chided her. "You could bake some cookies and take them over to the station; ya' know to say 'thank you' or 'I'm sorry' or something," she suggested. "Your cookies are awesome, and, one look at you, not green, and I'll bet he'll be thinkin' about your other 'cookies', too."

Rachel giggled at Santana's suggestive reply. "Thanks for the compliment, San, however lewd it may have ended up," she commented. "Actually, it's not a bad idea. They really did help us, and it's the least that I can do," she mused, convincing herself in the process. "OK, tell yourself that, Rach; whatever it takes," Santana acknowledged. "Just go out there and do it…tomorrow."

The girls ended their conversation shortly thereafter, and Rachel began to mull over what type of cookies she would bake. She eventually decided on oatmeal, with chocolate chunks and dried cherries, and her sugar cookies, which were always in high demand; whenever any of her friends had a party, they usually requested that she bring a batch (or two). Since she didn't have to work tonight or tomorrow, now would be the perfect time to start baking.

* * *

**Author's Note**: So...what do you think?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

As Rachel approached the fire station, a feeling of trepidation began taking hold. Was she doing the right thing? Did she seem desperate? Would he think there was some ulterior motive? Hell, she didn't even know his first name…or his marital status. She took a deep breath, telling herself that: (a) men are basically clueless and, with food involved, he never would suspect any motive beside gratitude and (b) as Santana said, "nothing ventured, nothing gained". Armed with two large plastic tubs filled with cookies, Rachel entered the building.

She approached the desk, and the Sergeant looked at her with decided interest. He was Asian, lanky, and quite nice looking. Maybe this was a Mecca for handsome firemen…Anyway, Rachel was here. She screwed up her courage, smiled, and inquired, "Excuse me, is a Lieutenant Puckerman here?" The man (Mike) replied, "Yeah. Wait just a minute, I'll get him." Excusing himself, he left the desk and walked away, and Rachel placed the cookies down on a nearby table.

Mike went to the lounge where the firefighters hung out when they were on duty and not at a fire. "Hey, Puck," he announced. The man looked up inquisitively, replying, "Yeah, Chang, 'sup?" "There's a total hottie waiting in the lobby, and it looks like she brought homemade cookies." The man was dumbfounded; the women he knew that constituted "total hottie" status didn't know where he worked, most of them didn't even know his name (beyond "Puck"), and he doubted that any of them could boil water, much less bake. "C'mon, Puck!" Sam Evans goaded him. "I don't care what she looks like; _she brought cookies_!"

"OK, OK, I'm goin'" he acquiesced, and exited the room to the jibes of his fellow firefighters. He entered the lobby to find a woman whom he didn't recognize, yet looked vaguely familiar. She was petite, no more than 5'1'', with long brown hair and expressive brown eyes. She was very slim, although she had "curves in all the right places", accentuated by a pair of skinny jeans and a simple pink cardigan sweater with the sleeves pushed up, buttoned except for the top two buttons. Around her neck was a delicate gold Star of David pendant that glinted in the sunlight, and which caused his heart to do a little flip in his chest.

"Excuse, me, Miss, do I know you?" he inquired, "because I'm sure I'd remember someone as pretty as you," he qualified his statement, giving her a smirk that morphed into a smile. "Oh, I'm sorry," Rachel replied, "we met yesterday. You physically extricated me from the theater to keep me out of harm's way," she explained. It immediately dawned on him; she was the chick with the green makeup, "Elphaba", the witch. "I'm Rachel Berry," she introduced herself, extending her right hand, smiling genuinely and looking him in the eyes. "Noah Puckerman; my friends call me 'Puck', he countered, smiling, using both hands to hold hers between them and matching her gaze, eye to eye.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Noah," she replied. Normally, he would have corrected her, as nobody outside his family had the privilege of calling him by his given name. Coming from her, though, it felt natural and…right, somehow. "I baked these cookies to thank you…that is, all of you, for what you did at the theater," she explained. "Just doin' our jobs, Rachel, but thank you, they look awesome," he commented. "They're also to apologize for my bad behavior," she continued. "I'm sorry I was so difficult." "That's OK," he accepted, "nothing wrong with bein' a little feisty," he teased, winking at her in the process. Rachel smiled demurely, blushing in embarrassment and looking away, an action that he somehow found endearing.

"I heard you went back onstage and helped calm the audience instead of lookin' out for yourself, first. That was very brave of you," he averred, smiling as he noticed her blush again. "It was nothing, really," she replied modestly. "I just did what needed to be done." They stood there for another moment, her hand still clasped in his, when Mike, the man at the desk, answered the phone, bringing both Rachel and Noah back to reality. He (reluctantly) let go of her hand, and she smiled gently. "I really should get going and let you return to your work. It was great to meet you. I hope you all enjoy the cookies," she stated warmly. "Same here, Rachel. Thanks again, on behalf of all of us." As he stood there, containers of cookies in hand, Rachel, still smiling, walked to the door, turned, waved, and left the station.

Noah carried the cookies to the firemen's lounge, placing them on the table. The men quickly descended on the treat, opening the containers and helping themselves. "Wow, Puck, these are really good!" Sam commented. "Yeah", Dave Karofsky agreed over a mouthful of cookie. "Hey, leave some for me," Noah complained, helping himself to an oatmeal cookie and taking a big bite. "Whoa, these really _are_ good," he concurred. "You totally have to thank her, dude," Sam insisted. "Yeah," Mike chimed in, having left his desk for a minute to help himself to a snack. "Don't let this one get away, Puck, she's a 'keeper'!" he teased.

"'The Puckarone' doesn't _do_ girlfriends," Noah protested. "Hey, buddy, I saw how you looked at her," Mike observed. "You know you're gonna see her again, so just get over yourself and deal with it," he advised. "You married guys are all alike," Noah complained, "Once you're shackled to the 'old ball and chain', you're not satisfied until all the guys you know are, too." "'Denial is more than a river in Egypt', Puckerman," Mike retorted sardonically, "Stop kidding yourself." Point made, Mike returned to his desk with two more cookies and a freshened mug of coffee.

Deep down (way, way down), Noah knew that Mike was right. He really wanted to see Rachel again. She seemed like a genuinely nice person, and aside from the fact that she was a knock-out, _and_ Jewish, he knew that she had a spirited disposition (which could prove interesting in bed…at some point, of course). He had failed to procure her phone number (dummy!), but he _did_ know where she worked. All he had to do was call the theater, find out when the next performance was scheduled, and go from there…

At the same time as the firemen were consuming their well-deserved treat, Rachel was walking down the street, deep in conversation (over the phone) with Santana, who was currently at work. "Rachel, I'm _dying_ here," Santana whined. "Tell me what went down, and don't skip anything." Rachel sighed before beginning. "Well…he was very nice, appreciative of the cookies, polite…" "Rach, get to the good stuff," Santana interjected. "Was he as hot as you remember?" Rachel smiled, answering with a giggle, "even hotter." "Did he take your number?" she queried. Rachel's face immediately took on a look of dejection. "No, he didn't. He's probably married, San." Rachel sighed again. "Oh, well, I did a nice thing, and that's the beginning and end of it," she pragmatically observed. "Too bad," Santana said comfortingly (as best she could, that is), "I had high hopes. Oh, well, better luck next time."

Rachel ended her conversation and headed toward the subway station for her ride home. She had tried…and apparently failed.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Comments? ;-)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The theater was open for business again on Friday, and Rachel once again donned the green body paint and "defied gravity". The performance had gone well, and she smiled to herself as she was washing away "Elphaba" after the show. She exited the theater, signing autographs and chatting with the fans. As she began to walk toward the subway station, she heard a masculine voice call out "Rachel!" She turned around to see Noah Puckerman, standing alone and smiling hopefully, hands casually in his pockets.

Rachel smiled graciously, although she felt like jumping up and down like a little kid. He must really like her, or he wouldn't have tracked her down at work. "_Guess he's not married, after all…_" she happily thought. "Hi, Noah; what a pleasant surprise," she said as she approached him. "I wanted to come by personally and thank you for the cookies; they're awesome!" he complimented. "Thank you, Noah, I'm glad everybody at the station enjoyed them," she humbly replied. Noah looked Rachel squarely in the eyes and asked, "Rachel, I was wondering…that is…would you like to go and get some coffee or something?"

Rachel grinned; _Bingo!_ "I'd love to Noah, but I have to go home and walk my dog, first. I hate to detain you…maybe we can take a rain check?" Noah was determined not to let Rachel get away this time. "No, that's OK; I really like dogs. Where do you live?" he inquired. "Brooklyn," she answered, prompting a grin on his handsome face. "Small world; so do I," he gladly admitted. They walked to the subway station, side by side. Noah's immediate instinct was to put his arm around her, but he had decided to (for once) let things evolve organically and not move too quickly. Rachel was definitely not in the "hump 'em and dump 'em" category, and he wanted to make a good impression.

They sat down on the train side by side, bodies millimeters apart. Noah turned to face Rachel and inquired, "What kind of dog do you have, Rachel? One of those little 'purse' dogs, like a Yorkie or something?" Rachel grinned. "I have a retired racing Greyhound, actually, Noah," she replied with pride. Noah was definitely impressed. "That's so cool, Rachel," he acknowledged. "I've never seen one close up before. What made you decide to rescue a Greyhound?"

"My dads have always had one, sometimes two," she answered. "Dads?" he interjected curiously. "Yes, I have two gay fathers." She continued matter-of-factly, "They hired a surrogate, and my Daddy is my biological father. Why?" she looked at him quizzically. "Just askin'; it's different…not unusual, just different," he answered honestly. "My mom raised us by herself; my dad took off when I was a kid and my sister was a baby," he shared. "Getting back to the dog…" he coaxed, effectively changing the subject.

"Oh, yes…I've grown up with them, and they're truly amazing animals. Track life isn't pleasant, and before the rescue organizations started, the dogs were euthanized as soon as they were done racing," she explained. "They're smart, gentle, loyal, silly, and extremely endearing. They seldom bark, which is good for apartment living." "Don't they need a big yard to run around?" he asked. "Occasionally," she agreed. "They sleep about 18 hours a day," she elucidated. They also have to be on a leash whenever they're outside unless they're in a fenced in area." "Why's that?" he inquired teasingly, "Don't they come when you call?"

"It's not that," she clarified, "They're so fast, they'd be gone in an instant, and they would never find their way back home…that is, if they didn't get hit, first." Her face momentarily reflected the potential sadness of losing a beloved pet, but she brightened up quickly. "She gets two walks a day, and goes to a dog park three or four times a week, depending on the weather, so she does get to run, too."

They had reached Rachel's stop, and Rachel led the way to her apartment building. Noah was both pleased and surprised to see that it was less than a mile from his own home. They approached the door and Rachel turned the key in the lock as Noah pushed the door open and held it for her. Noah, who was usually all about getting into a woman's apartment (and subsequently, her bed), hesitated (go figure; he had a conscience, after all). "C'mon up," she invited. "Are you sure?" he asked. "I mean, you hardly know me, and I wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea, or anything…" "Don't worry," Rachel interjected with a laugh, "I trust you. Come on," she encouraged, taking his hand and leading him inside.

They rode the elevator in companionable silence, and walked the short distance to Rachel's apartment. She unlocked the door, disarmed the alarm, and motioned to Noah to enter. In the distance, they could hear the sound of a dog whining; the happy sounds an animal makes when its owner is near and it wants to catch their attention. As Noah waited patiently, Rachel entered the kitchen and filled the water bowl, after which she grabbed a dog biscuit from the pantry. "Come and meet Maisie," she invited, taking his hand again and drawing him into her apartment.

In the corner nearest the balcony (so the dog could see out during the day) was a large dog crate, inside of which was a beautiful fawn-colored Greyhound with a white muzzle, chest, and feet. Rachel opened the crate and the dog exited immediately, emitting happy little moans and greeting Rachel as she petted her. The dog looked at Noah questioningly, and he stared into the most soulful eyes he had ever seen in a dog. "She's beautiful, Rachel," he avowed, smiling softly and locking eyes with Rachel, "just like her owner." A blushing Rachel, replying, "Thank you Noah, for the lovely compliment. This is Maisie," Rachel said as means of introduction. "It's OK; go ahead and pet her. She's a little shy with men, though; I think it's a 'track thing'," she added as a caution.

Noah extended his right hand to the dog to sniff; at first she turned her head away, but then she moved toward him, sniffed his hand, and placed her head under it, which he reciprocated by scratching her behind the ears. "She likes you!" Rachel beamed. "'Course she does," he agreed. "I have a way with the ladies," he teased, waggling his eyebrows, which elicited a giggle out of Rachel.

"Excuse me for a minute," Rachel requested. "While I 'freshen up', you can get acquainted with Maisie, and then we'll go for our walk," she explained. Rachel left Noah momentarily alone with the dog (who was busy with her cookie), enabling him to take a brief visual tour of her living room as he stroked her (surprisingly) soft coat. It was eclectic; a mix of contemporary and vintage; neat and tidy, but not antiseptic, and, although he hadn't known her long, it somehow seemed entirely "Rachel".

Rachel returned shortly, leash in hand. Maisie walked over to Rachel, whining happily and teeth chattering as the leash was latched to her collar. "OK, we're ready," she announced, and Rachel and Maisie, followed by Noah, left the apartment for their evening constitutional. Given the hour, the walk was fairly brief and only encompassed a couple of blocks. Rachel's primary focus was her dog, making sure that she "did her business", which Rachel immediately cleaned up and deposited in the nearest waste receptacle. After completing their sojourn, they returned to Rachel's apartment, where she re-penned the dog in her crate, washed her hands, and then she and Noah left to go on their coffee date.

Rachel smiled at Noah, and he returned the gesture, inquiring, "Is there anywhere you'd like to go, Rachel?" "There's a café a couple of blocks from here, and they have great coffee," she suggested. "Sounds good, Rachel; please lead the way." He took her hand, and they walked off toward the restaurant.

Once seated and reviewing the menu, Noah spoke up: "Rachel, you must be starving. Please order something to eat." Rachel smiled appreciatively. "Thank you, Noah. I ate dinner before the show…" "Nonsense," he interjected. "What you do is very physical, and you even walked the dog afterward. You need to keep up your strength," he gently admonished her. Ordinarily, Rachel would not have been pleased if someone told her what she needed to do, especially where eating was concerned. This time, she sensed he was only looking out for her, and somehow that struck a chord with her rather than a nerve. She felt touched that a comparative stranger would express their concern about her well-being, and rather than offend, it endeared him to her. "You know, Noah, I am a little hungry," she admitted with a smile.

From a woman's perspective, one of the basic rules of dating etiquette is to encourage the man to talk about himself. Women are naturally more verbal than men and could easily dominate the conversation, resulting in learning nothing about the man sitting across the table from them, as well as possibly sharing too much information (and potentially scaring him off). Since a man's favorite topic (or at least in the top five) is himself, a woman's primary objective becomes getting the man to open up, as she performs ongoing analysis to determine whether or not the man is worthy of a second date. So…as Rachel and Noah sat in the café and chatted over their meal, it became Rachel's goal to learn as much about Noah as possible.

"So, Noah, tell me," the "interrogation" began, "when did you decide to become a firefighter?" "Well, I had just graduated from NYU," he started to explain, when Rachel interjected "You went to NYU? I graduated from NYU, too. What was your major?" Noah smiled, realizing that he would be coming "out of left field" with his reply. "I have a BFA in Music…" to which Rachel gasped excitedly, and then he continued, "I had planned on going into either music education or production. Once I student-taught, though, I realized that teaching might not be the best career move for me."

He paused to take a sip of coffee and noticed that Rachel was paying rapt attention. "The economy wasn't all that great, and I couldn't find a way to break into the music industry. I'd always wanted to 'give back' to the community, but wasn't sure what to do." He smiled at Rachel and took another sip, as she gently encouraged him, "Please go on, Noah." "I was walking down the street one day when I witnessed the FDNY in action, extinguishing a fire. I noticed how they interacted with the people and I thought to myself 'I could do that'. I signed up the next day, and here we are, almost ten years later."

"It's a wonderful thing you do every day, Noah," she commented approvingly. "You must really enjoy your work." "Yeah, I do," he replied matter-of-factly, "but fire fighting is a young man's game, and I'm 31." "That's hardly old, Noah," Rachel teased. "I know, but you can work in the field for just so long. It can be dangerous and, the older you get, the harder it is." He motioned the waitress, who came to the table and refilled his coffee cup. "What do you want to do, then?" Rachel queried. "Actually, I've gone back to school for my MA. I've decided to give music another shot, and I'm trying to network more, this time. Hopefully, I'll be able to get a job once I graduate next year; then I can retire from the FDNY."

"I had no idea that you were a musician," Rachel said admiringly. "What instruments do you play?" "Guitar and piano mostly," he replied. "I've been writing music for years, and I'm in a band with a couple other guys; we play covers most of the time, and I do all of the arrangements." By now, Rachel was totally smitten, but before she could press further, he interrupted her train of thought: "I've chewed your ear off long enough, Rachel, how about you? How did you get into acting?"

Rachel grinned broadly and began, "It's been my dream as long as I can remember. Like you, I'm an NYU alumna; I graduated five years ago with a BFA in Theater from Tisch. My best friends Santana, Kurt and I came here for college from Shaker Heights, Ohio…" "You have _got_ to be kidding," Noah interrupted her. "What's wrong with Ohio?" Rachel queried defensively. "Nothing, Rach…d' you mind if I call you 'Rach'?" he looked hopefully at her, and she smiled and shook her head. "Thing is, I'm from Ohio, too; Lima, Ohio, actually." They both grinned at each other as if they had found a long-lost relative.

A thought occurred to Rachel, and she laughed out loud. Noah looked at her quizzically, and she explained, "This is such a small world; you have no idea. One of the guys I met in college is also from Lima; I fixed him up with Kurt, and they're planning on getting married. Do you happen to know Blaine Anderson?"

Noah's face registered astonishment, and he responded, "I went to high school with his brother, Cooper. Sure, I remember Blaine…what's he up to these days?" "He's been on the road in a 'bus and truck' company of 'Annie Get Your Gun' playing 'Frank Butler'. He's due back next week," she explained. "That's really cool," Noah admitted. "As I remember, he was in all the middle school plays, and I heard he was pretty much the star of everything in high school." "That would be Blaine," Rachel admitted with a grin. "He really took Tisch by storm." "As I'm sure you did, too," he commented flirtatiously, causing Rachel to blush demurely (she does seem to blush a lot around him…), a look Noah found very becoming on her. "You're blushing again," he gently teased. "It suits you." Rachel's heart went from "smitten" to "sold" (_ka-ching_!), and she coyly replied, "I guess you bring that out in me."

The man who "doesn't do girlfriends" felt himself grinning at Rachel like a love-stuck teenager and quickly composed himself by glancing at his watch. "I had no idea it was so late, Rach." She smiled softly at the nickname as he continued, "I'd better get you home. After all, you have to work tomorrow." "Thanks, Noah," Rachel responded with a contented sigh, "I've really enjoyed this, but, you're right; I am a little tired."

Noah put some money down on the table. Noticing Rachel beginning to put on her coat, he immediately assisted her, his hands resting momentarily on her shoulders once the garment was in place. Rachel smiled gently at Noah, who took her hand as the exited the restaurant. The two blocks back were spent hands clasped, comfortable in each other's company, each lost in their own thoughts. At the entrance to the apartment, Noah looked down into Rachel's eyes and requested, "Would you mind if I kissed you goodnight?" She beamed at him, responding, "Not at all. I think I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

They kissed, tenderly (albeit chastely). Noah spoke first: "'Night, Rach." "Good night, Noah. Please call me when you get home." Noah smiled; that was something his mother would ask, and it felt nice that someone was concerned about his welfare. "I would, but I don't have your number," he reminded her. "Well, then, give me your phone," she requested with a grin, and they swapped phones, programming their numbers into the other's cell phone before returning it. "Don't forget to call me," Rachel reminded him. "I won't, Rachel. Good night." Noah left, and Rachel entered the building, and then the elevator, eventually letting herself in and releasing the dog from her crate.

Rachel went into her bedroom to change clothes and noticed three messages pending on her answering machine. The first was from Kurt: "_Diva, it's me…Santana told me you met a hunky fireman and I want all the juicy details…Call me…Love ya', bye!_" The second, from Santana: "_Hey, Berry, it's me…Call me when you get home…Bye!_" The third was also from Santana, and was made about 20 minutes later: "_Berry, where the fuck are you?...OMG, are you with that fireman?...In case you are, I won't bother you on your cell…Call me…I wanna know __everything__._"

Rachel smiled; a kind of teenaged-moony-about-a-boy smile, as she undressed and put on her bathrobe. Even though it was after midnight, she knew that Santana would still be awake, most likely sitting by the phone, impatiently awaiting her call.

As Rachel had figured, Santana was indeed up and answered the phone on the first ring: "B?" she asked. "Yes, Santana, it's me," Rachel admitted wearily. Santana always came right to the point: "Were you with him?" "Yeah, I was," Rachel replied dreamily. "He was waiting for me after the show, and we went out for coffee." "So, spill girl; I want details!" Santana demanded. "There's not a lot to tell, Santana," Rachel explained. "He met me… we took Mais for a walk…we had a coffee date…he walked me home…he kissed me goodnight…" "Hold the phone here, chica; he kissed you?" Santana was grinning from ear to ear, and although Rachel couldn't see it, she could hear it in her voice.

"Yes, San, we kissed; very nice and, to answer your next question, no tongues were involved…And you're not gonna believe this, but he went to high school with Blaine's older brother." "OMG, we'll have to pump Blainers for the deets when he gets back in town," Santana conspired. "Oh, and by the way," she slyly continued, "I look great in red." "Point being?" Rachel queried. "Maid of Honor, ya' know…just sayin' a red dress would be hot." "Santana, it's a little early in the game to be picking out colors for a wedding," Rachel defensively advised. "We barely know each other, and I sincerely doubt…" "Rach, stop it," Santana ordered. "Take things as they come, be open for whatever happens, and, in case it all works out, remember, I look amazing in red." "OK, San," Rachel acquiesced.

At that moment, Rachel's cell phone began ringing. "Just a sec, Santana," she excused herself. "Hello?…Oh, hi, Noah…Yes, thank you for calling…Yes, I really enjoyed myself tonight…OK, talk to you soon…'Night." "Sorry, San," Rachel picked up the conversation again. "That was him, wasn't it," Santana playfully accused her. "Yes, it was," she admitted. "I'd asked him to call me when he got home, and he did." "Like I said, Rach…red," Santana teasingly reminded her. "It's late; gotta go, babe. Love ya!" "Love you, too, San. Good night," Rachel replied, ending the call.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Rachel awoke Saturday morning with a languid smile on her face, basking in the warm memory of her first date with Noah. They may have met under the most bizarre circumstances, but, so far, it felt like the stars were finally in alignment for her. Since her understudy would be performing in today's matinee, she decided that it would be a good day to go to synagogue. Because of her work schedule, she wasn't able to attend services often, and she felt particularly compelled today so as to say "thank you" for her blossoming relationship.

When she was able, Rachel attended a Conservative synagogue about six blocks from her apartment. They had an eclectic congregation, a mixture of older couples, young families, and single people, both gay and straight, reminding Rachel of the synagogue her fathers belonged to back in Shaker Heights. Even though she wasn't able to participate often because of her work schedule, she always felt welcomed.

Once services had ended, Rachel left the building feeling uplifted, softly humming the melody of the closing prayer. Lost in her thoughts, she was startled back to reality by hearing her name called out, punctuating the relative quiet of the early afternoon. "Rachel! Hey, Rach, wait up!" resonated in the air, and she felt the tiniest shiver of excitement as she recognized the warm timbre of his voice. "Noah, Good Shabbos," she said to the man who had just jogged up beside her. "Same to you, Rachel," he replied.

"Boy, you move pretty fast when you want to," he teased. "You look nice today, by the way" he complimented, looking at Rachel admiringly. "Thank you, Noah," she replied. "It's great to see you. I had no idea you went to this Synagogue." "Before I moved here, I promised Ma that I'd go, and this is the closest one to where I live…I don't think I've seen you here, because I'm sure I would have remembered _you_," he commented with a smile. Rachel blushed (he _really_ brings that out in her), answering, "Unfortunately, I can't go often because of Saturday matinees, but I like to attend when I'm able." "Yeah, don't you have to work today?" he inquired. "Summer Williams…she's my understudy…well, her parents are in town visiting and they wanted to attend the afternoon performance," she explained. "She asked if she could go on today, and I was happy to oblige. It gives me a rare Saturday afternoon to myself," she concluded with a contented smile.

"What're your plans, if I may ask," he politely queried. "It's a beautiful day, so I'm taking Maisie to the dog park after lunch," she answered. "Basically, just enjoy the day before I have to go in for the evening show." "Mind if I tag along?" he requested. "Of course not, Noah; I'd love the company," she happily invited him. "I'd like to change, so why don't we stop by my place first?" he suggested. "If you'd like, I can make us a quick lunch before we go pick up your dog." "That sounds wonderful, Noah," Rachel acknowledged. "Are you sure you don't mind?" "If I minded, I wouldn't have offered," he affirmed. "My apartment's this way," he instructed, taking her hand and leading her toward his building.

Once inside, Noah excused himself to remove his suit and changed into more casual attire. In his absence, much as he did last night, Rachel looked over his abode. It was definitely masculine, yet homey, with a leather sofa and recliner and a black baby grand piano. The bookcase was practically overflowing with books, and there was a large, flat screen TV on the wall, along with pictures of family and friends and a framed and matted Marc Chagall poster. Rachel had walked over to examine his library at closer range when Noah emerged from the bedroom in a pair of jeans and a dark plaid shirt.

"You have quite an eclectic collection, Noah," Rachel admired. "Thanks, Rach; I like to read," he admitted with a grin. "What would you like for lunch?" he inquired. "You mentioned you were vegetarian; do you eat dairy?" "Yes, I do, but not before a performance," she advised. "Thanks for checking." "Of course; how about a veggie omelet?" he suggested. "I've got mushrooms, red peppers, zuchinni, spinach…" "That sounds wonderful, Noah," Rachel accepted, "but only if you let me help." "Ordinarily, I'd welcome it," he admitted, "but you're dressed too nice and I don't want you to get your clothes dirty." Rachel smiled; he was such a gentleman. "OK, Noah, but next time, _I'll_ do the cooking," she acquiesced. "That'll definitely work for me," he admitted, "and don't think I won't take you up on it."

Noah was apparently adept in the kitchen and had a lunch on the kitchen table in short order. "This is delicious," Rachel admired after taking a bite. He accepted her praise with a grin and replied "Thanks! We take turns cooking at the station; most firefighters are good cooks…self-preservation, and all..." "Well, this is lovely; truly an unexpected treat," she acknowledged.

"Ya' know, Rachel, you're the first woman I've cooked for, aside from my family, in more years than I can count," Noah admitted. "Why's that, Noah?" Rachel questioned him. "Well…" he began sheepishly, "Most of the women I've dated…pretty much they were random hook-ups." Rachel was taken aback, somewhat, but did her best to cover her feelings and let him talk. "We met each other's needs, I never brought them here, and I doubt they even knew my name beyond 'Puck'. I'm not proud of it, but I'm not ashamed, either," he explained. "It just 'is what it is', ya' know?" He looked at Rachel to gauge her reaction, and she looked at him questioningly.

"Somehow…it's different with you, Rachel," he continued. "Even though we just met the other day, I really _like_ you," he earnestly admitted. Rachel smiled gently, asking, "So it seems that I've 'broken the mold', is that what you're saying?" "Yeah…kinda," he quietly replied. "I'm glad to hear that, Noah, because I really like you, too," she affirmed, looking into his eyes reassuringly.

Confessional moment over, the remainder of lunch was consumed over friendly small-talk, as each continued learning more about the other. All too soon, the meal was over, the dishes washed, and the pair was on their way to Rachel's apartment so she could change and take the dog for her outing.

Once in Rachel's apartment, she requested, "Noah, would you please let Maisie out of her crate while I change?" "'Course, Rach, happy to oblige," he replied, walking over to the crate as she entered her bedroom, closing the door behind her. "Hey, there, puppy," he said to the dog as he unlatched the crate door. Maisie stood up and stretched, and then left the crate, looking questioningly at Noah as she sniffed his leg. He began to pet the dog, gently talking to her, attempting to gain her trust. When Rachel emerged from her room, now in jeans and a hoodie, she found Noah squatting down, talking to the dog, rubbing her tummy while she was flat on her back with her legs outstretched in "cockroach" position.

"Well, I see you two have bonded," Rachel teasingly announced. Noah grinned and stood upright and the dog scrambled up, teeth chattering excitedly when she saw Rachel holding the leash. "Here, baby," Rachel motioned to Maisie, who came up to her, allowing the leash to be latched to her collar. "OK, guys, let's go," Rachel instructed, and the two humans and one Greyhound began their journey to the dog park, a couple of blocks away.

The dog park was bustling with individuals and families enjoying the afternoon with their pets. As soon as they were safely inside and the gates securely closed, Rachel let Maisie off her leash. Initially, she stayed close by; soon, she spotted a familiar dog, and she trotted over to "say hello", Rachel and Noah following close behind. After the "meeting", which primarily consisted of sniffing (and we won't say where), Maisie did what Greyhounds often do when they get a burst of energy: they "zoom". The dog began racing around the perimeter of the small park as Rachel looked on in amusement and Noah in awe.

After a couple of laps, the dog came up to Rachel, dropping her front legs down, backside in the air in "play" pose, looking at Rachel expectantly. Rachel bent down a bit, grinning, and questioning the dog "Are you playing with me, baby girl?" The dog immediately began running again, repeating the cycle once more, until she returned to the couple, panting heavily. Rachel and Noah moved to a park bench, where they sat down, Maisie following closely behind. Rachel removed a dog bowl and a bottle of water from her tote, and she proceeded to pour some water into the bowl, placing it on the ground. The dog took a fast drink, and then plopped down at their feet, still panting, recovering from the exertion.

"That was incredible," Noah commented. "Watching them run is like 'poetry in motion'," Rachel observed. "I never tire of it." "She seems to have," Noah noticed. "They're sprinters," Rachel explained, "They have short bursts of energy, and then they need to recover." "She's a very cool dog," he admired. "Thanks, I think so, too," Rachel agreed with a gentle smile. "She's my 'baby girl'."

"D' you want kids some day, Rach?" Noah quietly inquired, almost surprised at his own words, yet feeling compelled to ask. "Yes, I do, very much," she shyly admitted, "but Maisie is 'it' at the moment. How about you?" she asked, looking at him inquisitively, effectively turning the tables. Noah's face took on a far-away look, and he smiled wistfully. "Yeah, I do. Actually…" he looked away before continuing, "…well, I kinda already…well," he cleared his throat before continuing, "…back when I was a sophomore in high school, I got my best friend's girlfriend pregnant." Rachel drew her breath in, remaining quiet and listening without judgment.

"I was barely 16 and she was 15 and we'd been drinking. She gave our little girl up for adoption to this couple in Akron," he explained. "Have you ever met her?" Rachel gently asked. "Yeah, a couple 'a years ago, when she was 13, she asked about her birth parents, and I flew in. We really hit it off…she's a great kid," he proudly revealed. "We email a couple 'a times a month, now." "And the mother…" Rachel lightly prodded. Noah frowned slightly before stating, "She married some guy and moved to Columbus; she wrote Beth…that's my daughter…that she had little kids who wouldn't understand, and maybe she'd consider meeting her when they're older. She was pretty cold; well…basically always."

He looked at Rachel carefully, asking, "Does that bother you, I mean, me havin' a kid and all?" Rachel answered, "Not at all, Noah; why should it? I'm glad you felt comfortable enough with me to share that." Noah exhaled, unaware up to that point he was even holding his breath. He smiled, putting his arm around Rachel's shoulders and drawing her in. "Thanks for being so understanding," he acknowledged. Rachel smiled, saying nothing, letting her body relax into his side.

"You must have some 'skeletons', Rach," Noah teased. "Not really," she replied quickly, pondering the question before continuing. "Well…I was engaged for a little while back in high school." "In _high school_?" he incredulously echoed her. "My boyfriend at the time was worried about me moving to New York, that I would leave him behind and forget about him," she explained. "I got caught up in the romantic notion, but that didn't last too long, and I broke it off." "What happened?" he asked. "He married a nice girl from Cleveland, they have two kids, and now he lives about a block from his mother and stepfather. I run into them occasionally when I go home to visit." "Any regrets?" he interrogated. "None whatsoever," she averred. "We're both living far better lives apart than we would ever have together."

"Just think," he admitted, gently caressing the knuckles on her hand closest to him with his thumb, "if it hadn't been for that fire, we wouldn't have met." "In my wildest dreams, if I ever thought that I'd meet a great guy due to a fire, I would've considered setting one months ago," she teased. "D'you really mean that?" he queried. "Well, probably not…but I'm awfully glad we met," she admitted. Noah smiled, turned his head toward Rachel, and leaned in for a kiss, which they shared, at first chastely. He attempted to deepen the kiss, and she obliged, responding in kind. After the kiss ended, their foreheads pressed tenderly together, he smiled languidly and quietly avowed "Me too."

As the afternoon drew to a close, Rachel and Noah both needed to get ready for work. Maisie was reattached to her leash, and they made their short trek to Rachel's apartment. Noah accompanied her upstairs, and after the dog had been released into the apartment, she walked Noah back to the door. "Thanks again for a lovely day, Noah," Rachel stated. "I'm glad we ran into each other," he commented. "I'd like to see you again." Rachel's blinding smile gave him all the answer he needed, even though she replied, "That would be wonderful, Noah; I'd like that too."

"I'm working tonight, and between work and school, I won't have a free day 'till next weekend," he explained. "Monday's my day off," she reminded him. "How about lunch on Monday?" he offered. "I'd love that, Noah. What if I stop by the station?" she suggested. "That'd be cool," he accepted with a smile. "I'm looking forward to it," she commented. "Same here," he agreed. Noah took Rachel in his arms and kissed her tenderly. "Call me tonight when you get home?" he requested. "I'm meeting Kurt after the show, but I'll let you know as soon as I'm home," she explained. "Thanks for your concern. It means a lot." This time, Rachel initiated the kiss, and Noah increased the intensity. "If I don't leave now, you might just miss that performance," he whispered in her ear, and she giggled, shooing him out the door, insisting "That'll never happen, Lieutenant. Rachel Berry does _not_ miss performances."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Lieutenant Noah Puckerman entered the fire station a different man than the one who left not 24 hours prior. There was a spring in his step, a slightly bemused smile on his lips, and he was humming random Neil Diamond melodies. Sergeant Michael Chang, the dispatcher, noticed his demeanor immediately. "You _saw_ her again, didn't ya', Puck?" he incredulously exclaimed. "Who?" Noah calmly retorted, pretending not to know. "You know…that Broadway chick, the one with the cookies…" he detailed. "Oh…you mean _Rachel_," he played along. "Yeah, as a matter of fact, I did," he admitted with a grin.

"OK, Puck; out with it," Mike encouraged Noah, "what happened?" "I met her after the show on Friday and we went out for coffee…that is, first we went back to her place…" Mike was grinning lasciviously, interjecting, "Yeah, go on…" Noah rolled his eyes. "'S I was sayin', we went back to her place to walk her dog, and then we went out for coffee," he clarified, smugly noting Mike's immediate deflation. "What kind of dog was it, some little Chihuahua or something?" he questioned. "Actually, this is really cool; she has a retired racing Greyhound," he explained. Mike's expression showed that he was impressed with her selection of canine companion, and Noah smirked smugly back at him.

"Yeah, and afterward…" Mike pressed for details. "Afterward, I took her home, and I went home, which, coincidentally, is about eight blocks away," Noah concluded. "That's it?" Mike asked dejectedly. "Well, no…actually, I ran into her after services this morning," Noah elucidated. "We went back to my place _for lunch_," he emphasized, "and then back to her apartment, and we took the dog to the dog park." "You've got to be kidding," Mike retorted. "No, I'm not. She's gonna stop by on Monday, and we're goin' to lunch, and I'd appreciate no wise cracks from you," Noah instructed.

"Puck, you _do_ realize that you've broken most of your cardinal rules of dating," Noah looked at him skeptically, as Mike enumerated: "One; never let a woman know where you work or what you do for a living. Two; never, _ever_, _under any circumstances_ take her back to your place. Three; never give out your number. Four; never reveal your full name." Mike grinned superiorly, as Noah chuckled, replying, "How do you know that I gave her my phone number?" "I didn't," Mike retorted, "but you just confirmed it. And you haven't even slept with her. Did we just enter the 'Twilight Zone', or what?"

"Rachel's different from any of the bimbos I've hooked up with, Mike," Noah explained. "I actually like her, and I want to spend time with her…get to know her better. Is that weird or _what_?" Mike grinned widely, proclaiming, "I never thought this day would come, but I think this woman has tamed 'The Puckerone'. Well, congrats, old man, and if she's gonna stick around, make sure she brings cookies when she visits," he concluded.

* * *

Meanwhile…across town, Rachel was once again "defying gravity", bringing down the house with her heartfelt performance. After "Oz" was put to bed yet again, Rachel left the theater, happily waving over her best (male) friend Kurt as she signed programs and posed for pictures with excited tourists. Fan meet-and-greet completed, she met Kurt, sharing a warm embrace before he pulled back and gave her a once-over. "Diva, you are simply _glowing_," he archly commented. "That man must be good between the sheets." Rachel laughed, gently admonishing Kurt, "Kurt, we haven't been intimate; we only met three days ago."

"Rachel, if you put him off, he'll lose interest," Kurt advised. "Kurt, I haven't 'put him off', as you said; it'll happen when it happens." They began walking down the street toward the subway station. "Besides," she continued, "if it happens too soon, the relationship is based on sex, and that never lasts." Kurt grinned slyly, replying, "So you're admitting that you hope it becomes long-term, are you, Rachel?" Rachel smiled demurely; "He's a very nice man and we have a lot in common. I really like him, Kurt," she admitted. "I'd like to see where this goes, not turn it into something physical immediately and watch it crash and burn."

Just then, Rachel's cell phone pinged, indicating she had received a text. She fished it from her purse, grinned when she read the text, and busily returned a reply. "Rachel, who was that from?" Kurt demanded. Rachel grinned sheepishly and Kurt gasped, "Your fireman?" "Yes," she replied quietly, just as the phone pinged again. Before she had a chance to read and respond, Kurt grabbed it from her hands. He read:aloud: "_Hi, Rach! How was the show?_" "_Good, thanks, Noah. How's work?_" "_Quiet. Thinkin bout u. Lookin fwd 2 Mon 'smiley face'_." "OMG, Rachel," Kurt exclaimed, handing her back the phone. "This is _so cool_. Well, answer him, already!" he demanded, and she obliged. One more text back and forth, and she returned phone back to her purse, smiling dreamily.

"OK, Diva, when do I get to meet your handsome firefighter?" Kurt teased. "We both work evenings, plus he's in school for his MA…in music, by the way," she informed Kurt with a bright smile. "Maybe once Blaine's back in town, we can all get together for drinks or something," she suggested. "OK, we'll 'play it by ear'," he acquiesced, "but I want to meet the man who's captured your heart soon, Missy." "All right, Kurt, I'll work on it," she promised him.

Kurt and Rachel returned to her apartment, dropped off her things, and took Maisie for a walk. After they returned, they busied themselves in the kitchen, preparing a late snack, as Rachel was, in fact, hungry after her evening's endeavors. Rather than Kurt returning to Manhattan by himself, he was going to stay the night, sleeping on Rachel's comfy sofa, and go home after breakfast. Rachel excused herself for a moment and went into the living room to make a quick call, which Kurt (ever the busybody) strained to overhear: "Hi, Noah…Yes, we're home, now…Yes, I'm going to eat, I promise…How are you?...Well, I guess quiet is good…Yes, Kurt's staying the night…_Of course_ on the sofa, _really_ Noah…Yes, I am, too…Please be careful and have a good night…Bye…"

Rachel turned toward the kitchen to see Kurt leaning up against the doorpost, arms folded and a bemused grin on his face. "You called him when you got home?" he asked, incredulous. Rachel blushed a bit, answering, "He asked me to call before he left this afternoon. He just wanted to be sure that I'm safe." She looked up at Kurt wistfully, explaining, "Oh, Kurt, I don't know what to do. I like him so much, and we only met the other day."

"Rachel, maybe it seems like things are moving a little fast…" "A _lot_ fast," Rachel interjected. "OK," Kurt continued with a grin, "a _lot_ fast. You're not a kid any more, and you've got a reasonably sensible head on your shoulders." "Thanks…I think," Rachel sardonically commented. "The point I'm trying to make is to let nature take its course. If it feels 'too fast', talk about it with him. You'll know what's right for you," Kurt concluded. Rachel sighed, "I suppose you're right, Kurt." "Of course I'm right, Diva; I'm _always_ right," he commented. "Now, let's eat; I'm sure you're starving."

* * *

**Author's Note**: Rosh Hashanah (Jewish New Year) is quickly approaching, so there will not be an update until the weekend. **L'Shanah Tovah Tikasevu** - May you be inscribed (in the Book of Life) for a good year.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Monday morning found Rachel in her kitchen humming (random Neil Diamond melodies) as she prepared lunch. It was a beautiful day, and she had decided to surprise Noah with a picnic. She had made a beautiful vegetable salad and had included lentils to ensure that there was an extra protein source. She cut up fruit and baked poppy seed muffins, as well as a large batch of chocolate chip cookies for the crew at the firehouse. She had even made dressing from scratch, storing it separately. A lightweight insulated cooler was packed with the food, paper plates, napkins, plastic flatware, and two bottles of sparkling water. She grabbed an old blanket that she used for picnics and beach parties, and, after crating the dog, was on her way.

Rachel walked into the firehouse shortly before noon, smiling at Sergeant Chang as she placed the cooler on the counter. "Hi, Sergeant! Is Lieutenant Puckerman here?" she asked. "I'll go get him; just a minute," he replied, looking inquisitively at her baggage. "Mr. Lynn, please watch the phones," he requested, turning behind him and speaking to the other firefighter at the desk who was (apparently) doing paperwork.

Mike went into the back where the men were cleaning the truck and making sure it was properly and fully stocked. "Hey, Puck! Your date's here," Mike teased, which was greeted with a variety of cat-calls and kissing sounds from the other men. Noah looked up from what he was doing, pretending to scowl and proclaiming, "Can it, you pussies. You're just jealous!" "'Scuse me," Sam Evans retorted, "but I've got a hot wife at home, how am I jealous?" "Can Brittany bake awesome cookies?" Noah retorted. Sam looked a bit deflated, replying, "Well…no, she can barely fry an egg; I do most of the cooking." "I rest my case," Noah smugly concluded. "Now, if you ladies will excuse me…" he announced, making his way out of the room and walking hastily toward the receiving area.

In Mike's absence, Rachel had removed a tub of cookies from the top of the cooler and re-zipped it. Noah approached her and their eyes met, he placed his hands gently on her shoulders and they kissed (chastely), both grinning happily once the brief kiss ended. "These are for the guys," Rachel announced, handing the container to Noah. "They're chocolate chip," she explained. "Thanks, Rach, they'll love these," he happily acknowledged. "Hold on, I'll be right back," he explained, lightly touching her forearm before exiting with the cookies and placing them in the break room. He poked his head in the back where the firefighters were working, announcing "Cookies in the break room! Save some for me, or asses will be kicked!" and returned to Rachel.

"What's this?" he inquired pleasantly, nodding at the cooler. "It's such a beautiful day, I thought it'd be nice to have a picnic," she explained. "Sounds great," he agreed. "Chelsea Park's pretty close, 'bout a half mile; allow me to lead the way." Noah took hold of the cooler with his left hand, taking Rachel's left hand in his right, and they exited together walking toward the park. Mike turned to the other man at the desk, observing wryly, "In all the years I've known him, I have never seen Puck hold hands with a woman. Rider, I think this may be the first sign of the apocalypse."

* * *

Noah led Rachel to a shady spot under an old maple tree, and she spread out the blanket she had brought. "So, what's for lunch?" Noah asked, eyeing the cooler hungrily. "I made a huge salad," Rachel explained, describing: "there's a ton of different vegetables, lentils, chopped eggs and feta cheese…" "Sounds great, Rach!" Noah acknowledged. "I baked poppy seed muffins, and there's some cut up fruit, too." "This is so thoughtful, Rachel; thank you," Noah replied appreciatively, and leaned in for a kiss, which momentarily became (a little) heated. When it ended, Rachel blushed demurely, clearly distracted (to Noah's amusement). She quickly refocused and began unpacking the food. "Here, Noah; please help yourself," she offered.

Soon they had full plates and began to eat their lunch. Noah motioned over to Rachel to move next to him, and she sat down, adjusting herself to lean against his muscular chest. "I could definitely get used to this," she mused. He kissed her on the cheek, echoing her sentiment with a quiet "Me too." They munched on their salads, each momentarily quiet, enjoying the lovely spring afternoon. Rachel had added some fruit to her plate, and Noah picked off a grape, feeding it to her. Giggling, she returned in kind with a piece of melon, which he gladly took from her fingers. Between fingers and forks, amidst giggles and teasing, shy smiles and furtive glances, they fed each other pieces of fruit and bites of muffin.

"Say, Rachel," Noah tentatively began. "Yes, Noah?" she asked hopefully. "I just found out today that our band…ya' know, the one I told you about…" "Yes, I remember," she acknowledged. "We have a gig for this Saturday, and I was wondering…I mean, I'd really appreciate it…d'you think you'll be able to come?' Rachel smiled, turning to face Noah, and replied, "Thank you for asking me, Noah. I don't remember the last time I took a Saturday night off, and as long as Summer doesn't have any plans, I would love to see your band perform."

"Thanks, Rach, it'd mean a lot if you're there," he admitted with a relieved grin. "You're welcome, Noah; thank you for the invitation. May I bring a couple of friends?" she inquired. "Kurt and Santana would love to meet you." (Translation: dying with curiosity and mercilessly haranguing Rachel with "_when are we going to meet him?_") "Sure, Rach, bring 'em along," he gladly encouraged.

After lunch, Noah walked Rachel to the subway station, his arm protectively around her shoulders. She held the now significantly lighter cooler in her far hand, blanket folded neatly and draped over that arm, with her arm closest to Noah also wrapped around him. They waited together for the train; when it arrived, he bent down to kiss her, very sweetly (albeit chastely). Releasing Rachel from the kiss, their foreheads met tenderly, both wearing matching silly grins. "I'll talk to ya' later, Rach," Noah affirmed. "Until later, then, Noah" she replied shyly, boarding the train that would take her home. A lighthearted Noah returned to the station while, an increasingly enamored Rachel sat on the subway train, mulling over the events of the past five days.

Rachel had arranged for Larry (the dog walker) to take care of Maisie's afternoon walk. She dropped off the cooler and left immediately to run her "usual" Monday errands (i.e. marketing) and also managed to call her understudy and confirm that she would be available to assume the role of "Elphaba" for Saturday night. As Rachel anticipated, Summer was beyond excited to comply, and Rachel would be free to attend Noah's (band's) performance.

* * *

Rachel had fed Maisie her dinner and was just plating her own when her phone rang. Noah was grabbing a quick bite before his evening class and had thought it would be a good time to call Rachel, resulting in an unorthodox yet amenable dinner "date". Rachel let Noah know that she would be present on Saturday, and he described the afternoon's "cat rescue" mission, leading to a discussion of the film "Pleasantville" and what it meant to each of them. One topic flowed into another, and 45 minutes later Noah excused himself to attend class. It was very shortly thereafter that Santana called.

"So, B, how was your date?" Santana asked, skipping the polite amenities (i.e. "Hello", "How are you?", etc.) and coming (as usual) right to the point. "It was…very sweet," answered Rachel, choosing her words carefully. "_Sweet?_" Santana replied incredulously. "Seriously, Berry, what the fuck is up with _that_? I want _details_," Santana insisted. Rachel smiled at her girlfriend's bluntness; she knew it was off-putting to some people (at times, herself included), but it was also who she was, and Rachel wouldn't have her any other way.

"Details? Well…" Rachel began. "I brought lunch and we had a picnic in Chelsea Park. I made a fruit salad, which we ended up feeding to each other." Rachel paused, smiling at the memory. "It was sweet and silly and romantic and…oh, San, I just don't _know_…" "Know what, Rach?" Santana prodded her. "I've only known him five days; it's too soon to have these feelings." Santana grinned, gently retorting, "You're fallin' for him, aren't ya', B?"

Rachel sighed, before confiding, "Yeah, I am. It really scares me, San." "That's awesome, Rach. Why be scared?" Santana queried. "Because every time I let my guard down and open myself up, I inevitably get screwed over." "True, your track record isn't all that good," Santana mused, "but there's a first time for everything. Maybe he's the exception to your sorry-ass string of 'players' and 'posers' and 'losers'…" "Oh, my!" Rachel interjected comically, and she and Santana laughed. "Berry, only _you_ could tie that back to 'The Wizard of Oz'," Santana sardonically commented. "Well, after all, I _am_ 'Elphaba'," Rachel teased.

"If you'd like to meet him, his band is playing this Saturday night…" Rachel continued, but before she could say where, Santana interjected, "Hells yes! I wanna check out this dude…make sure he's on the up-and-up." "Thanks, Santana…I think," Rachel cautiously replied. "I'm going to call Kurt and ask him and Blaine to join us." "Sounds like a plan, Rachel. Definitely lookin' forward to it," she confirmed. "Well, I gotta run, girl; talk to you tomorrow!" "Goodnight, Santana," Rachel replied. "Have a good night."

* * *

**Author's Note**: In case you haven't seen the movie "Pleasantville" (which I highly recommend), the fire department's primary purpose was to rescue cats from trees, as there had never been a fire there...until after Tobey Maguire's and Reese Witherspoon's characters appear. The cause of the fire will not be disclosed here; however, the fire department didn't respond to cries of "Fire!". Once Tobey Maguire cried out "CAT!", they raced to the scene, only to be baffled by the fire.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Noah Puckerman had never pursued a woman for any purpose beyond a quick one- or (at most) two-night stand. At an early age, he had learned how to "charm the pants" off just about any woman he found remotely desirable, and the women who flitted in and out of his life became objects rather than people, prizes in a game of cat-and-mouse that became boring quickly and had begun to wear thin. There were no allusions of affection or commitment; hell, there was usually no transfer of last names or personal information beyond a bare minimum. With few (probably none, if we're being honest) exceptions, it was completely superficial, relatively meaningless, physically releasing and emotionally numbing gratuitous sex. Both parties walked away momentarily sated if emotionally bankrupt, each moving on to their next liaison with little thought about the prior one.

Rachel had been the first woman who mattered (outside of his family) in a very long time, maybe ever. She listened to what he had to say and didn't withhold her opinion when she was of a different mind. She seemed to care about his well-being and, strangely enough, he was concerned about hers. He felt protectively toward her; perhaps it was due to the circumstances under which they met; after all, he _did_ kinda save her life. Regardless, he called every night to make sure she got home safely and they would discuss their respective days. She was beautiful and smart, had a cool dog and baked awesome cookies, and the realization that he was quickly falling in love with her wasn't nearly as frightening as he would have imagined.

For once, he wasn't in (much of) a hurry to jump into bed with her. Although the idea was infinitely appealing and something he had thought about (at length, no pun intended), he realized that it was better to move at her pace rather than push that specific agenda. Based on the increasing intensity and duration of their kisses, he probably wouldn't be waiting much longer. And, since the first cougar took his virginity in lieu of a tip for mowing her lawn, a woman would be having intercourse with Noah, rather than "Puck".

Rachel, on the other hand, was starting to "freak out". She was falling hard and fast for Noah, and was afraid to truly open her heart to him. She had been burned badly by her last serious relationship and had been reluctant to get involved with anyone since. Rachel had met Richard during a particularly bleak period when she was working wherever she could to stay afloat while being rejected from seemingly every audition she attended. Rather than encourage her, he tore her down, insisting she give up her dreams to pursue a "normal" line of work. He wasn't Jewish and didn't understand why she chose to be with her family in Ohio for the "her" Holidays, yet refused to call in sick on an (unfortunately very short-lived) off-off-Broadway play to attend one of "his" holiday parties. She had seriously begun to question herself, her talent and her career choices when she caught him "in the act" with a (female) co-worker at an office party where she had accompanied him.

Now, Rachel was finally in a good place; her career was exactly where she had hoped it would be yet beyond what she had expected. She had good friends, a wonderful family, and she was comfortable in her own skin. Aside from the obvious physical attraction, she liked and respected Noah, enjoyed his company, and valued his opinions. She had never felt so strongly for a man in such a short period of time, and was seriously concerned that it would end just as quickly as it had begun. She expressed as much to Santana when she came over on Saturday to "help" (i.e. critique) Rachel in her choice of attire.

"Seriously, Rach," Santana began, "put the past where it belongs, grab the present with both hands, and enjoy the ride," she advised. "Now, take a couple of deep, cleansing breaths," she instructed, pausing while Rachel did just that," and let's get you dressed before Kurt and Blaine are here and we spend the next two hours in 'makeover land'." Rachel giggled, appreciating all that her girlfriend had said, and fully realizing that a side trip to "makeover land" with Kurt would take up a good part of the evening. If she was fully dressed, there would be nothing he could do beyond voicing his opinion.

Rachel had laid out her choice on the bed: a black denim pencil skirt that hit about two inches above the knee, a cobalt blue cardigan, and black pumps (on the floor, not the bed). "That's OK, Rach, but just OK," Santana commented. "If ya' really wanna fuck him, wear red," she confided with a devilish smirk. "_Really_, Santana," Rachel managed to retort weekly, blushing deeply as she spoke. Santana had gone to Rachel's dresser and removed a similar sweater; however, this was a true red with faceted red buttons and a dusting of tone-on-tone beading. "This is what you should wear," she advised, holding the sweater up to herself. "It'll show off your figure without revealing too much, and it says 'fuck me' like a pair of six-inch stilettos. Ya' _need_ to wear this, Rach; trust me; 'Auntie San' is never wrong." "OK, Santana," Rachel acquiesced, "I'll wear the red sweater."

By the time Kurt and Blaine had arrived, both Rachel and Santana were dressed, primped, and ready to go. Rachel had buzzed them in, waiting at her opened door and grinning like a child in a toy store when the boys appeared. "Blaine!" she called out, running into his arms. He laughed, returning her embrace, and lifting her off the floor in the process, spinning her around before letting her settle on her feet once more. "Could we possibly see a little more enthusiasm, Rachel?" Kurt asked sardonically. Rachel kissed Kurt on the cheek and linked arms with both of them, drawing them into her apartment.

The four friends sat about, munching on the crudités platter and hors d'oeuvres that Rachel had put out (in the kitchen, out of Maisie's reach), and catching up with Blaine, who had been on the road for the past four months. Since the evening's destination was to watch Noah's band perform, discussion soon turned toward Rachel and her new "leading man".

"Rachel, Kurt tells me that in this great state of New York, you met somebody from Lima, Ohio," Blaine prompted Rachel. "Yes, Blaine; actually, he went to school with Cooper," she explained. "What's his name?" he inquired. "Noah Puckerman," she answered, shyly smiling and blushing slightly as she said his name out loud.

"Not 'Puck' Puckerman?" he incredulously replied, Rachel nodding her head in response. "Rach, he was _bad news_ back in the day," Blaine retorted. "They called him the 'Man-Whore of McKinley', and he slept with most of the girls, at least half of the female substitute teachers, and, rumor had it, several of the full-time teachers." Rachel was nodding patiently, indicating she was listening; although Noah hadn't been specific, he had alluded to his past behavior, so she wasn't surprised by Blaine's admission. "He had a kid out of wedlock when he was a sophomore and did some time in 'juvie' his junior year," he continued. "I don't know, Rach, leopards seldom change their spots," he concluded.

Although Santana and Kurt were taken aback, Rachel was not. "Blaine, although I appreciate your concern for my best interests, I don't think there's anything to worry about," Rachel responded. "That happened over 15 years ago, and people _do_ grow up eventually," she gently admonished him. "He's told me quite a bit of that himself, already, and the rest just fills in the blanks." She smiled gently, looking into Blaine's eyes. "I think you'll like him when you meet him. At least, please reserve your judgment until you do; you may be pleasantly surprised." Topic effectively closed, conversation moved on until it was time to leave for the bar, which was within walking distance, about six blocks away.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Next time, we head to the bar.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Meanwhile, back at the bar… the band was setting up for their evening performance. Noah's band (actually Sam's band, since it was his idea to begin with) was comprised of himself, Sam Evans, Rider Lynn, Artie Abrams, and Jake Puckerman, his half-brother. Yes, Noah has a half-brother; the headquarters for his father's job was in Chicago, and he split his time between there and the satellite office in Lima. Unbeknownst to his wife and son (and eventually, daughter), he also split his affection and sowed his seed, having a second "family" (unmarried, hence no laws broken) there. The men never knew of each other until Jake moved to New York to pursue his education and wound up in a class with Noah. Once they were able to move past their emotional baggage (courtesy of their deadbeat and apparently secretive father), the two became fast friends.

Noah, Sam, and Rider worked together for the FDNY, and Sam named the band "Engine 34" after their station. Artie had been a paramedic who was injured three years prior in an accident on route to the hospital, becoming paraplegic as a result; he currently managed the ER at New York Hospital Queens. Jake was the only one actually in the music industry; he was a studio musician, backing up vocal talent (both well-known and up-and-coming) on their recordings.

Ryder was the percussionist, spending most of his time playing the drums. The other four switched between lead and bass guitar and keyboard, depending on the song. Noah and Sam also provided acoustic guitar for quieter numbers, and Jake would play harmonica as needed. Sam and Artie had brought their wives Brittany and Kitty (respectively). Jake's fiancée, Marley Rose, who frequently sang with the band, was currently in Chicago where her sister had just given birth. Ryder, the youngest at 24, was still living the carefree bachelor existence, having been a willing Jedi Knight-in-training to his dating Jedi Master, "Puck".

Noah kept glancing nervously at the door as he was checking the sound equipment. He stood up for a moment and was grabbed from behind in a warm hug by Brittany Evans, Sam's wife. "What's going on, Puck?" she inquired. "I've never seen you this nervous before." "I'm not nervous," Noah insisted. Brittany smiled gently, replying, "OK, if you say so. What's got you so interested in the door, then?" "I invited someone to come tonight, and they're bringing a few friends," he carefully revealed.

Brittany squealed excitedly "Oh, you mean that Rachel girl? Sammy told me that you were seeing somebody. I am _so_ happy for you, Puck." "Thanks, Britt," he replied. "This is all kinda new for me, ya' know," he admitted a little sheepishly. "You'll do fine, Puck. Good luck!" she wished him, kissing him on the cheek. He smiled in response, glancing up to see that Rachel had entered the bar with her entourage and was looking at him, a mixture of hurt and incredulity in her face. He grabbed Brittany by the hand and quickly went to where Rachel was standing awkwardly with her friends.

"Hi, Rachel!" Noah greeted her. "This is Brittany Evans, Sam's wife," he introduced her, and Brittany held out her right hand. "Sam and Britt are from Lima, too; I work with Sam at the firehouse, and he organized the band," Noah hastily explained. Rachel's expression relaxed and she shook Brittany's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Brittany," Rachel replied. "Wow… so you're Puck's girlfriend!" Brittany exclaimed to a surprised Rachel. "Sammy says you bake awesome cookies…I wish I could bake…maybe you can teach me?" "Um…sure, Brittany," a confused Rachel replied. "Thanks, Rachel; that would be so cool!" Brittany noticed Sam out of the corner of her eye and excused herself: "Ooh, I see Sammy looking for me…talk to you later," she announced, turning swiftly and walking toward her husband.

Rachel regained her composure enough to remember her manners. "Noah, these are my friends: Santana Lopez, Kurt Hummel, and Blaine Anderson. Santana, Kurt, Blaine; this is Noah Puckerman." Hands were shaken all around and pleasantries exchanged, with both Santana and Kurt observing Noah and Rachel with obvious interest; his arm was around her shoulders protectively and her facial expression reflected a contentedness they had not seen in a long time. Once they were seated they chatted for a few minutes, and then Noah offered to buy them a round of drinks. When he excused himself to go to the bar and place their order, Rachel decided to accompany him.

The club was packed, forcing Rachel and Noah to move slowly through the crowd. On the way, a couple of people recognized Rachel and asked for her autograph, which she happily provided. "Is that what it's like…being a celebrity, I mean?" Noah inquired. Rachel giggled, replying, "I'm pretty far from a celebrity. I'm no Sutton Foster or Megan Hilty in terms of being recognized, not by a long shot," she explained. "Actually, most people want to know what Faye is like, how is she to work with, you know...I'm just enjoying the ride."

By now they had reached their destination and Noah had ordered their beverages. As they waited, Noah decided to broach the subject that had been brought to light by Brittany Evans. "Um…Rach…about what Brittany said earlier…" Noah hesitantly began. "You mean about me being your 'girlfriend'?" she asked softly. "Um…yeah…I mean, how do ya' feel about it?" he gently prodded her. A blushing Rachel replied, "If you're asking, I think I'd like it very much." Noah grinned; this was definitely a "first" for him. "If you're accepting, then I'm asking," he responded with more assurance. Rachel grabbed his shirt front, pulled his face down closer to her level and kissed him soundly. "I'll take that as a yes," he confirmed once the kiss ended, tenderly brushing a stray tendril of hair away from her face. "Most definitely," Rachel averred with a shy smile, reaching up to remove any traces of lipstick with her thumb.

Back at the table, Rachel's friends watched interestedly as the little scene played out before them, if at a distance. Kurt was the first to break the silence: "Well, _that_ was unexpected," he commented. "I don't see how, Kurt," Santana replied. "She's falling hard and fast, and by the look on his face, so is he. What's wrong with a little 'PDA', anyway?" she questioned him. "I don't know…her last relationship was so long ago and so toxic, besides," Kurt reminded them, "I just don't want her to be hurt again."

"Kurt," Blaine quietly interjected, placing his hand over Kurt's, "being hurt's a risk we take when we open ourselves up to somebody else. Loving somebody and letting them love us back is one of the most powerful experiences in life…it's worth taking the risk, don't you think?" he gently reminded his partner, lovingly squeezing his hand. Kurt sighed; "You're right, Blaine. If we were lucky enough to get together, maybe it'll be the same for them." "OK, then," Santana cut in, clearing her throat and then grinning slyly, "enough with the philosophizing . I've got 20 bucks that they 'seal the deal' tonight. Any takers?"

Before either man could respond, Rachel and Noah returned to the table with their drinks. After thanking Noah, before Rachel could sit down and rejoin her friends, Noah suggested, "Hey, Rach, would you like to meet the guys?" "Sure, Noah, I'd love to," she replied; off they went, his arm gently around her waist as he guided her toward the stage where the band was completing their preparation before the set began.

As they approached the group, the flurry of activity that had been going on, i.e. tuning instruments, checking the sound equipment, organizing sheet music, reviewing the evening's play list, etc. screeched to a halt as they fell dumbfounded by the quickly-approaching couple: Puck, their band mate and the biggest "player" in the FDNY had his arm around a woman, both of their faces reflecting feelings that they were certain had never emanated from his (face) before. As he tended to gravitate toward tall blondes with too much makeup and more bosom than nature had intended, the fact that he was holding a petite brunette whose charms apparently were elsewhere than in her brassiere was even more startling.

The duo approached the now stilled platform, oblivious that all eyes were on them, faces reflecting either disbelief or extreme humor at the evolving situation. Noah began introducing Rachel to the group. "Guys, this is my girlfriend, Rachel Berry…" Upon hearing this, Ryder emitted a "Whoa". Noah looked at him reprovingly while continuing, "Rachel, these are the guys." He motioned to Sam first; "This is Sam Evans, and you already met Brittany." Rachel glanced up at a blonde young man, handsome in a boyish sort of way and apparently married to the young woman she had met earlier. "Hello, Sam," Rachel said, smile beaming. "Hi, Rachel…Thanks again for the cookies; they were awesome!" "You're welcome, Sam; thank you for what you did at the theater."

"Rach, this is Artie Abrams," Noah gestured to a young man in a wheelchair, currently holding a bass guitar, "and this is his wife, Kitty," and he nodded his head toward a blonde woman poised behind the wheelchair, shorter in stature than Brittany, and apparently in her last trimester of pregnancy. "Hello Artie; Kitty. Congratulations on your baby." Rachel smiled, shaking hands with each in turn. "Thanks, Rachel," Artie replied. "It's a pleasure to meet you." "This is Rider Lynn, our drummer," he gestured to a young man sound-checking an amplifier. "Nice to meet you, Ryder," Rachel greeted. "Didn't I see you at the front desk?" she asked. "Yeah, that was me," he proudly admitted. "Glad to meet you, too. Thanks for the cookies; they really were great!" Rachel smiled in gratitude for the compliment as Noah turned to the last young man in the ensemble.

"Rachel, this is my brother, Jake," he introduced him. "It's nice to meet you, Jake," Rachel said, shaking his hand. "Noah, I thought you told me you had a sister," she mentioned, trying not to sound surprised or taken aback. "Yeah, I do," he agreed. "Our father apparently had a second family in Chicago," he explained. "Jake and I met at NYU, and we've been friends since." "Hey, Jake, where's Mar tonight?" Noah inquired.

"Her sister just had a baby, and she's in Chicago visiting," he explained with a shrug. "Well, that's just eff'in great," Noah reacted, disgruntled by the news. "I mean, it's nice for her family, and all, but that leaves us in the lurch." "What's wrong, Noah," Rachel asked concernedly. "Marley's Jake's fiancée; we have a couple of numbers that call for a woman's voice, and she sings with us," he explained. "I guess we'll just change up the set list." Realizing that she could help, Rachel grinned broadly. Noah looked at her questioningly, uttering, "What?"

"Noah, _I _can sing," Rachel stated matter-of-factly. "Rachel, I can't ask you to give up your night off from performing to sing with us," Noah dissuaded her. "I invited you to _watch_ the show, not _be in_ the show." "Nonsense, Noah," Rachel gently rebuffed his rejection. "It'll be fun. And it won't be the whole set; you said so yourself: 'a couple of numbers'. Besides," she paused, looking flirtatiously up at him, lowering her voice slightly, "I'd love to sing with you." She smiled coyly at him, and Noah had the distinct impression that she was referring to more than just singing.

* * *

**Author's Note**: As far as I can tell, in the show Marley has no siblings. Oh well, creative licence…


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Noah cleared his throat, partly to take his mind out of the bedroom, at least for the time being. He rifled through a folder of sheet music, pulling out several pieces that the band had considered using tonight for their female vocalist. "Here, Rachel," he said, handing her the music, "take a look at these and see if there's anything that'd work for you." She took the music from his hand and began reviewing it; he stood behind her, looking over her shoulder, and pulled her close with his arm around her waist. Rachel smiled inwardly, thinking "_Santana was right about the red sweater, that's for sure_." As they were considering their options, one of Noah's other co-workers who did not play in the band approached the stage.

"'Sup, Puck?" Mike asked. Noah looked up, responding, "Hey, Mike, Tina. Thanks for coming tonight." Mike grinned devilishly at Noah as he noticed his stance and proximity to Rachel. "I see you have company this evening," he commented. Rachel looked up from the music, recognizing Mike and greeting him, "Hello, Sergeant! How nice to see you." "Same here, Rachel; please call me Mike," he replied. "Thanks, Mike," she acknowledged, and glancing to his right, noticed his companion, and happily exclaimed "Dr. Cohen-Chang! What are you doing here?"

"You know each other?" Mike asked incredulously. "Yeah, actually, we do," Tina answered. "Dr. Cohen-Chang is Maisie's vet," Rachel explained. "I didn't know Mike was your husband," she observed. "And I had no idea you were dating Puck," Tina responded, grinning, eyebrow raised and looking at Noah questioningly. Rachel blushed, replying, "Yes, we met a couple of weeks ago. He rescued me from a fire at the theater." Tina laughed, commenting, "Yeah, I heard all about that, but I never 'connected the dots'. Way to go, Puck!" Noah chuckled, slightly tightening his hold on Rachel. "You two are so cute together," Tina teased. "We'll have to catch up, later," she advised, before leaving, hand-in-hand with Mike, as they headed toward the bar for a beer before the show started.

"What's _up_ with _those two_?" Tina whispered in her husband's ear as they retreated from the stage. "He's got it bad, Tina," Mike explained. "I think he's still in denial, but he hasn't so much as glanced at another woman since they met." "He's looking at her with 'baby-making' eyes," she reflected, to which Mike replied "Huh?" "Michael, I've seen that same expression on your face _three times_, and my mother is taking care of all three 'results' tonight so we could have an evening out," she calmly expounded. Mike rolled his eyes, replying, "Woman, you're crazy; there is _no way_…" "Give them a year, and we'll see who's crazy," Tina retorted with a giggle.

Rachel had selected two songs and reviewed them with Noah. "I'd like to sing this duet with you," she requested, "and this is a good ballad, if that's OK with the group." Noah grinned; he really appreciated Rachel's lack of ego. She was the star of a huge Broadway show, and she was deferring to his friends and their "two-steps-up-from-a-garage-band-for-old-guys" group. "Usually Jake sings this with Marley, but I think he'd be willing switch under the circumstances," he advised. "As for the second, I think it's a great choice. The arrangement's awesome…if I say so myself," he concluded, winking. "Thank you, Noah. Is there someplace where I can warm up for a couple of minutes?" she inquired. "Yeah, I'll show you before we start," he obliged.

Rachel looked up to see Santana furiously attempting to make eye contact with her. "I think I'm being summoned," she announced, walking over to the nearby table, hand still entangled with Noah as he followed closely behind. "What's going on, Berry?" a slightly agitated Santana queried. "You left me all alone with _these two_, and they've gone and _multiplied_," she commented, gesturing to the other two men now sitting at the table. "Hey, Karofsky!" Noah greeted his fellow firefighter. "Rachel, this is Dave Karofsky, one of the men I work with. Dave, this is Rachel Berry," he introduced them. "Hi, Rachel. Thanks for all the cookies!" "You're welcome, David. It's nice to meet you," she replied.

"Puck, Rachel, this is my partner Wade Adams," he mentioned, his arm around the back of Wade's chair, and hand resting on his shoulder. "Wade and I worked together on 'Annie…'", Blaine enlightened them. "He was 'Charlie Davenport', the guy who manages the 'Wild West Show'." "And I'll be starting rehearsals for 'La Cage aux Folles' in two weeks," Wade interjected. "Who will you be playing, Wade?" Rachel politely inquired. "'Albin'", he answered. "When I first got out of college, I worked in drag shows until I could get my foot in the 'legitimate' theater," he explained. "Yeah," Dave confirmed. "That's where we first met. His drag queen persona was named 'Unique'…" "And 'Unique' tore it up every night, _honey_," he concluded with finger snaps and a faux-diva attitude, as the group (himself included) laughed heartily.

"_Actually_, Rachel," Kurt interjected, changing the subject slightly, "Blaine was just saying that you two may be seeing a lot more of each other." "How's that, Blaine?" Rachel queried, smiling. "I'm up for 'Fiyero', now that Todd Fabian is leaving the show." "Yes, he was offered a role on a new TV series," Rachel confided, "…something about a high school drama club in Wisconsin where characters randomly break into song…" "That sounds just a _might_ high-concept, if you asked me," Kurt sarcastically commented. "I don't see that getting picked up; ever hear of 'Viva Laughlin'? Not even Hugh Jackman could save _that_ turkey."

At that point, Sam approached and spoke softly in Noah's ear, who then clued Rachel in: "Rachel, we're starting shortly. I'll show you where to warm up." He then addressed the table: "See ya' later, guys; hope you enjoy the show," and then led her toward the stage, hands entwined. He pointed to the right, indicating, "There's a room back there where we stashed the cases and other stuff. Once we get started, it'll be pretty loud, so you can warm up and nobody will notice," he explained. "After you're done, go back to the table. I'll introduce you when it's time." "Thank you, Noah," Rachel replied. They kissed, and she left to prepare her voice for her performance.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," Sam announced, "I'd like to introduce 'Station 34'." The audience applauded loudly as Sam mentioned each member of the band. They immediately began their set with a cover of "Old Time Rock N' Roll", followed by "Rock and Roll Music", each of which was received enthusiastically by the crowd. They had just launched into "Born To Run" when Rachel emerged from the back; she took the long way to the table, moving quietly through the crowd so as not to distract from the performance.

Rachel had obtained a bottle of water in order to hydrate before performing. As she enjoyed a sip, the band began to play "Hey, Jude". She looked up, catching Noah's eye, and beamed a proud smile to him. If music was the key to Rachel's heart, Noah was definitely her "love locksmith". Santana noticed her friend's smitten look and whispered to Kurt (who was seated next to her) "If they start singing "Tonight's The Night", I'm gonna bust out laughing...or puke." Kurt covered his mouth with his hand so his friends couldn't see the laughter he was desperately trying to hold back at Santana's caustic yet hilarious remark.

Fortunately for Kurt's sanity, that song was not on the set list for tonight. Their next number was "The Sounds of Silence", which again met with a hearty round of applause. Noah smiled at Rachel as he took the mike and announced the following: "Tonight we have a special surprise for everyone. Standing in for our female lead, may I present, straight from Broadway where she's currently starring in 'Wicked', Miss Rachel Berry!" Led by her friends (who behaved like Rachel's personal cheering section), the audience exploded with applause. Rachel stood up, faced the room and waved, then turned to walk up to the stage. She was used to this reaction in the theater, but felt relatively anonymous outside of that milieu, leaving her a bit surprised by their response.

Noah reached his hand out as she walked up the steps onto the platform and kissed said hand once she had arrived. They smiled at each other as she retrieved the mike from him. "Thank you, everybody, for your generous welcome. Isn't the band amazing?" she asked, applauding, and the crowd cheered in response. Once the room had quieted down, Rachel and Noah sang "Need You Now". Their faces registered both surprise and delight at the recognition of how perfectly their voices blended together. Rachel's next/final number was a solo, "Killing Me Softly", for which Noah had crafted a lovely arrangement. Upon completion, Rachel took her bow and attempted to return to her seat, but the room would have none of it, insisting on one more song.

Rachel knew exactly what she wanted to sing; something fun and unexpected. She quietly asked Noah if the band knew the song she had in mind, and (with an amused smirk) he confirmed that they did. He quickly found the music and distributed it to the guys, who launched into the introduction to "Cowboy Casanova". This was pure entertainment for Rachel; a little "Rock" and a little "Country" and very far removed from Broadway and show tunes. It highlighted an earthier aspect of Rachel's personality that Noah had never seen before…and that he found immensely attractive.

Ever-observant Santana leaned in to Kurt and quietly commented "Are ya' sure, Kurt? I'll raise the stakes…$50 says they 'do it' tonight." "_Pu-leeze_," Kurt responded in her ear, "all bets are off. Rachel is fantastic as always, but watching the two of them up there…well, the way they're looking at each other…it almost feels like an invasion of privacy." In choking back a laugh, Santana snorted, the rest of the table (sans Kurt) looking at her curiously. Moment passed, and their attention refocused on the performance, Santana got in one last whispered barb: "If looks could make a baby, Rachel would be pregnant by now." This time, Kurt was the one who had to swallow his laughter, and became the recipient of the next round of questioning glances.

Song ended, Rachel took her bows, thanked the band, and returned to her seat, fully ready to become a member of the audience once again. As much as she had looked forward to a night off, it had been exhilarating and was definitely something she would do again (if asked, of course). Her friends all chimed in with their praise and accolades, as did Dave and Wade, who left shortly thereafter.

Eventually, the band completed their performance for the night. A grinning Sam thanked their audience, and then handed off the mike to Noah, who announced: "We have one more song this evening; written and performed by a musical Jewish icon…Rachel, this is for you." The first chords of "Sweet Caroline" rang out, and Noah took command of the lead vocal.

Rachel sat, transfixed by the performance, smiling shyly and looking up at Noah with stars in her eyes. Santana, grinning devilishly, leaned over and whispered in Rachel's ear "Remember to use protection." Rather than respond, she just blushed deeply, unwilling to take a moment away to chastise her friend. Once the song was completed and the audience had shown their appreciation, the guys began to dismantle, packing up their equipment and instruments.

Rachel excused herself from her friends and quickly walked to the stage where Noah had his back to the audience as he was gathering the music together. She ascended the step and moved discretely behind him. "Noah?" she quietly called, touching him gently on the shoulder. He turned around, anxiety suddenly escalating with her proximity. One look in her eyes quelled his uncertainty. "Thank you, Noah; that was beautiful," Rachel sincerely complimented him, taking his hand. "Nobody has ever done that for me." He kissed her sweetly, and then pulled her into a warm embrace. "You were phenomenal tonight, Rach," he praised her. "You have the voice of an angel," he bent down and whispered in her ear "and you bring out the devil in me." He kissed her again and she blushed deeply, burying her forehead in his chest afterward, and causing him to chuckle.

"Give me a few minutes to pack up, and I'll walk you home," Noah volunteered. "Thanks, I'd appreciate that," she accepted. "My friends live in Manhattan; this way, they can go straight home." Before Rachel had a chance to return to the table, her friends approached the stage. "I trust you have an escort home, Diva?" Kurt inquired. "Yes, thank you, Kurt, Noah has offered to walk me home tonight." Santana shot Kurt a knowing look as if to say "_I told you so…_" She handed Rachel her purse, saying "Here ya' go, B. Talk to you tomorrow." Santana addressed Noah, complimenting, "You guys put on a great show; glad we could be here." She linked arms with Kurt and Blaine, instructing, "OK, boys, back to the 'big city' for us," and the three walked toward the door, and then out into the night.

* * *

**Author's Notes**: I understand that on the show, Wade's character is transgender. For purposes of this story, I chose to make him gay, instead. He has served his purpose and most likely won't be back.

Song credits are as follows:

"Old Time Rock N' Roll" – words and music by Bob Seger.

"Rock and Roll Music" – words and music by Chuck Berry.

"Born to Run" – words and music by Bruce Springstein.

"Hey Jude" – words and music by Paul McCartney.

"The Sounds of Silence" – words and music by Paul Simon.

"Tonight's The Night" – words and music by Rod Stewart.

"Need You Now" – words and music by Charles Kelly, Hillary Scott, and Dave Haywood (aka "Lady Antebellum").

"Killing Me Softly" – lyrics by Norman Gimbel, music by Charles Fox. This was originally recorded by Lori Lieberman; the artist with whom it is most closely associated is Roberta Flack.

"Cowboy Casanova" – lyrics by Brett James and Carrie Underwood, music by Mike Elizando.

"Sweet Caroline" – words and music by Neil Diamond.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The night air was chilly, yet the breeze was edged in a softness that suggested the warmth of impending summer as Rachel and Noah walked toward Rachel's apartment. "Have you eaten, Noah?" Rachel inquired. "You worked so hard; you must be starving." "Why, would you like to stop and get a bite?" he suggested. "I would, but I'd like to uncrate Maisie. She's been locked up most of today." "Does she need a walk?" he asked. "No, Larry took care of that for me," Rachel confirmed. "Why don't I make us a little something?" she offered.

Although the tone in her voice suggested nothing more than a snack, Noah realized that the situation had the potential to carry over into other, more adult activities. Granted, he was all for that to occur, but he decided to take his cues from Rachel rather than risk the best (and first) real relationship he had ever enjoyed. "That sounds great, Rachel, thank you!" he appreciatively accepted her offer. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well…it's a little late for a big meal…maybe breakfast?" she mused. "I could make pancakes, or I have a waffle iron or…I know; how about fried matzoh?" she asked with a smile. "You know how to make matzoh brei?" he asked excitedly. "Of course, Noah," she responded, "you seem surprised." "My Nana used to make that for me when I was a kid," he explained. "Well, then, I hope I can do it justice," she gently teased him, "after all, nothing tastes as good as when your Nana makes it."

Once they had entered Rachel's apartment and closed the door, before she had a chance to let the dog out, Noah embraced her, arms encircling her waist, and kissed her; Rachel responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and returning the kiss with equal fervor. Before things could become too heated, Rachel gently extricated herself, reminding him with a shy smile, "Noah, I have to let Maisie out." He came with her, his arm returning to her waist, somehow needing the reassurance of physical contact. He released her momentarily as she squatted down to unlatch the crate, allowing the dog full run of the apartment. She greeted Rachel and Noah briefly, then trotted over to her bed in the living room, where she settled herself, sighed contentedly, and drifted back to sleep.

"A dog's life," Noah rhetorically commented with a thoughtful smile. "Well, the first few years were pretty harsh," Rachel reminded him, "but she has a good life now." "Now, where were we…" he mused, pulling Rachel close and kissing her tenderly. Rachel sighed into the kiss and smiled as she parted her lips, allowing the kiss to mutually deepen. Still standing when they broke apart for air, Rachel demurely inquired "Aren't you hungry, Noah?" He eyed her lasciviously, eyes darkened with desire, and answered, "Only for you, Baby," pushing a tendril of hair behind her ear that had fallen forward during their passionate embrace. "Well," Rachel paused, looking coyly up at Noah and smiling slyly, "I suppose we can eat later." "Are ya' sure, Rachel?" Noah asked. Rachel nodded in reply, a delicate blush forming on her cheeks.

Noah picked up Rachel, slinging her over his shoulder once again. This time, she broke out in laughter. "Noah, what the heck are you doing?" she asked, greatly humored by his antics. "After all, this _is_ how we first met…" he explained. "OK; works for me," Rachel concurred with a giggle. "Bedroom's to your right…"

Upon entering the room, Noah deposited Rachel gently on the bed. He sat down next to her and took her hands in his. He began tentatively: "Rachel, I could feed you a lot 'a lines right now; hell, I could probably write a book." Rachel's eyes were shining as she gazed adoringly at the man who had been a stranger not two weeks prior. He continued: "Truth is, I've never felt this way before…" Rachel's unshed tears began to silently roll down her cheeks. Noah stopped and wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs. Rachel expressive eyes reflected deep affection and unmitigated lust as her gaze locked with Noah's. As if pulled by a magnetic force, their lips met. One kiss quickly followed another, each with increasing intensity. Buttons were undone, zippers unzipped, and garments removed…and, as passion escalated, words became unnecessary...

* * *

The early morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, rousing Noah from his contented, albeit brief slumber. Rachel's head rested on his shoulder, her right hand on his chest over his heart. His arms encircled her small frame and their legs were intertwined. The man who never spent the night with a woman had made a quick 180, realizing that he wanted to fill all his nights with Rachel. He kissed her softly on the forehead, and her eyes opened slightly, adjusting to the light. She looked up at him, smiled dreamily, and snuggled in closer, attempting to sleep in a little longer.

"Mornin', sleepyhead," he whispered. "Is it morning already?" she asked, eyes barely adjusted to the light. "Yeah," he admitted, "almost time to wake up." "I'm so comfy; can't we stay here all day?" she coyly suggested. He moved his hands to smooth down her bed-strewn hair. "I'd love nothing more," he averred, "but we both have to work today. Gotta eat, ya' know, pay the bills and all…" "I suppose," she sighed dejectedly, attempting to move as Noah's arms retained her. "Noah, if you'll release me, I'll make breakfast," she coyly offered. "Shower first, then breakfast?" he asked hopefully. "That sounds lovely," she accepted.

Noah released his gentle grasp and he and Rachel disentangled themselves from each other, Rachel being the first to sit up. She modestly covered her bare chest with her arms. Noah joined her, sitting on the side of the bed, and drew her close again. "Rach, you're so beautiful; please don't be embarrassed around me," he tenderly persuaded. She leaned against him, each taking comfort in the close proximity of the other. "Thank you, Noah," she replied, accepting the compliment as well as his reassurance.

"Come, then," she encouraged, "let's take a shower, and then I'll make you that fried matzoh I promised." He grinned broadly at the prospect and stood up, reaching toward her, not only to help her up but also to reinforce the physical connection they had attained (and his overwhelming desire to touch her, even in some small way). He grabbed his clothes from the night before and she pulled out something comfortable from her dresser. Before they exited the bedroom, she gently reminded him "Condom, Noah." He smiled again at the prospect of further intimacy with Rachel and made sure he was duly armed with protection before they made their way toward the bathroom.

When Rachel and Noah emerged, hand-in-hand, Maisie was at the bathroom door to greet them. "I'll need to take her for a walk, first," Rachel advised. "I'll go with you," Noah confirmed. Rachel quickly gathered her dog-walk necessities (sunglasses, keys, poop bags, etc.), latched the dog to her leash, and she and Noah, with Maisie in tow, left for their brief morning constitutional. While the dog searched for her perfect toilet du jour, the humans engaged in conversation.

"Noah, the band was fantastic last night," Rachel complimented. "You all could be full-time musicians." "Thanks, Rachel," he replied appreciatively. "When I was a kid, I dreamed about the 'Rock n' Roll' lifestyle; by the time I got to NYU, I realized that it wasn't for me…on the road nonstop, surrounded by a bunch of sycophants…" He chuckled when he saw the incredulous look on Rachel's face. "Hey, I'm working on my Master's, I know what that means!" he teasingly defended himself. "Bottom line, I'm more a behind-the-scenes kind of guy who stays put than a front man with no roots." Satisfied with his explanation, he wrapped his arm around Rachel's waist and pulled her closely while they watched Maisie complete her morning "business".

"Are ya' sorry that I'm not a big star, Rach?" he queried. "Heavens, no!" she quickly responded. "I was just blown away by your talent…everybody's talent." "Thanks, Rach. Coming from you, that means a lot," he confirmed. "Arranging and composing, writing music; that's really more for me," he confided. "Performing's just for fun." "If I hear of anything, I'll let you know," she offered. "In the theater, there are some people who write the songs but can't orchestrate for the life of them. Today's' workshop might blossom into tomorrow's blockbuster; you never really know." "Thanks, Rachel, I'd appreciate that," he responded, and leaned in for a kiss, which she happily reciprocated.

As soon as they returned to the apartment, Rachel prepared breakfast first for Maisie. After she had been fed, Rachel washed her hands and began getting the kitchen ready for their meal. Noah entered, grabbing Rachel from behind and holding her closely, and planting a kiss on her cheek. "Anything I can do to help?" he asked hopefully. "Sure," she replied with a smile, "there's some cantaloupe in the fridge that you can cut up, and you can set the table."

Rachel indicated where everything was, and as Noah did as he was requested. Rachel started the coffee maker, and then began to make the main course: she moistened the broken matzoh, mixed in the eggs, salted it, and started frying up the concoction. Soon the delicious aroma of matzoh brei filled the kitchen. "Oh, man, this smells like my Nana's kitchen," Noah happily commented, kissing her on the top of her head. "It should be ready soon, Noah," Rachel advised. "Please sit down and help yourself to some fruit; I'll be there in a minute."

Noah filled small fruit bowls with the cut up melon for each of them. He took the freshly brewed coffee and placed it on a trivet on the table after pouring out two steaming mugs. Rachel arrived at the table, frying pan in hand, and served each of them some of the tasty mixture. Noah took a bite while Rachel looked on expectantly. His face broke out in a huge grin as he exclaimed "This is awesome, Rach! It tastes just like my Nana's." Rachel smiled, modestly replying, "Thank you, Noah. My Bubbe taught me, so I guess she deserves some of the credit, too." "Well, thanks to your Bubbe, and thank you, Baby!" Noah responded. "This is amazing!"

Although both of Rachel's fathers were good cooks, she was primarily taught by her Bubbe, who was the closest adult female role model in her life. When Rachel was learning how to cook, her Bubbe would say "_Rocheleh,_ _the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach_". Rachel smiled nostalgically at the memory, and, for the first time, actually hoped that it was true.

As they were enjoying breakfast, Noah's cell phone pinged, indicating he had received a text message. "Rach, do you mind if I look at this?" he asked. "Of course not, Noah; please take it," she encouraged. He looked at the cell phone and glanced up, saying "It's from Beth. She says '_Hey, BD!_'…" "BD?" Rachel interjected. Noah chuckled, explaining "Yeah, 'BD' stands for 'Bio-Dad'; that's what she calls me. Anyway…_'Sent email. No answer. Will be in NYC next wknd for show choir Nat'ls. Parents 2. Meet 4 dinner?_' That'll be so cool, Rach!" he happily commented, before texting back "_Sounds gr8! Pls email w details. Thx, BD_"

"Noah, how many are in their group, do you think?" Rachel curiously inquired. "I really don't know, but I can find out; probably no more than 20, including chaperones. Why do you ask?" he questioned her. "I know I can't get that many free tickets, but I'm sure I can get a good discount for the Friday night performance, if you think they'd be interested," she explained. "If you could swing that, I'm sure they'd love it. Thanks, Rachel!" he accepted. "I'll find out from Beth and let you know." "I'm happy to do it, Noah," she replied graciously.

Breakfast completed and dishes washed, the time had come for Noah to take his leave, returning home to change into his uniform before going to work. They walked to the door, his arm around her shoulders and hers encircling his waist. Now facing each other, clutching as if holding on for dear life, they kissed passionately. "You're an amazing woman, Rachel," he commented earnestly, then whispering in her ear, "And you're all mine, now." Rachel turned beet red, burying her head in his chest, and smiling as if she had just heard the best secret _ever_. "I'll pick you up after the show tonight," he advised her. "Until tonight, then, Noah," she replied in a soft voice. She reached up, cupping his jaw gently with her right hand. They tenderly kissed once more, and then Noah reluctantly left, heading home to pursue more mundane activities.

* * *

**Author's Note**: "Bubbe" is Yiddish for grandmother.

Although I have a non-Jewish acquaintance who thought that frying "crackers" sounded extremely unappetizing, I can personally testify that matzoh brei (rhymes with "try") is actually delicious.

"Rochel" (guttural "ch") is Hebrew for "Rachel"; adding "leh" onto the end of a name makes it an endearment.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Rachel floated back into her apartment on a fluffy pink cloud of happiness. She had never sensed a greater connection to another person than she now felt toward Noah. Her fears about the future were washed away by her contentment with the present. She had just helped herself to another mug of coffee when the phone rang.

"Hello, Berry! How was it? Can you walk?" Santana greeted Rachel. "I'm fine, Santana; how are you," Rachel replied, ignoring Santana's blunt (and borderline lewd) conversational opener. "Come on, B; out with it…was he good? He must have the skills, from what Blainers said…" "Really, Santana, how do you know that he stayed over?" Rachel questioned her. "Don't tell me that he didn't," she suspiciously retorted, "I saw the way you two were looking at each other last night. There is no way that you slept alone…" "OK, San, you win," Rachel acquiesced, "He did spend the night."

"OK, give…I want details," Santana requested. "It was lovely, San," Rachel answered, sighing contentedly, "I've never felt so in synch with anybody in my life." Santana rolled her eyes; obviously Rachel was not going to provide a blow-by-blow of her evening's activities. "I'm happy for ya', Rach, but you know I'm not lookin' for the 'hearts and flowers' crap," Santana attempted to clarify her request. "San, I know what you're asking, and, sorry, but I have no intention of satisfying your prurient curiosity," Rachel confirmed.

Santana knew when to back down. "OK, B, I know when I'm licked…no pun intended, by the way," she said. "I'm happy for you…see, I was right about the red sweater." "Yes, you were, San," Rachel agreed, smiling as she mused over the prior night. "When do ya' think you'll see him again?" she asked. "Tonight, after the show, actually," Rachel answered. "Very cool, girlfriend," Santana replied. "Don't forget to use protection," she teasingly reminded Rachel, who laughed at the comment. "Don't worry, San; we've got that under control," she advised. "I'll _bet_ you do," Santana sardonically responded. "Well, I gotta rock…talk to you tomorrow, kid." "Bye, San; thanks for calling," Rachel ended the call, hanging up afterward.

* * *

True to his word, Noah was waiting for Rachel after the show carrying a bouquet of mixed spring flowers in one hand and a duffel bag in the other. He wore his FDNY uniform and a silly, love-struck grin. Rachel's expression matched his own as she excused herself from the autograph-seekers and picture-takers and walked quickly toward him. "These are for you," he began, "to thank you for last night, and for many nights to come." "Thank you, Noah, they're beautiful," she graciously accepted the flowers. "But I only get flowers once, and you expect a repeat performance?" she asked with a cocked eyebrow and sly grin. "Yep; that's how it works," he deadpanned, winking at her. "Guess I'll have to take what I can get, then," she teasingly accepted her "fate". He wrapped his now-free arm around her waist, and they began walking toward the subway station.

"Did you talk to Beth?" she asked. "Yeah," he replied, "there are 22 people in all, 23 if you count me." "Well, _yours_ I can get for free," she explained. "As for the others, I asked, and the tickets will cost $33 apiece, if they're interested, that is." "Beth sounded really excited about it," he confided. "We, that is, you and me, Beth, and her parents, can get together for an early dinner/late lunch before you need to go and get ready…if that works for you, of course," he suggested, deferring to Rachel's pre-performance schedule. "That'll probably be best," she confirmed. "Once the play is over, the kids will need to get some sleep so they're fresh for their competition. I remember it well…"

"Were you in show choir, Rachel?" Noah inquired. "Of course," she replied with a grin, "so were San and Kurt. Our group was the 'Vocal Raiders', and we placed at Nationals twice and won junior year," she recalled. Noah chuckled, explaining, "I was, too. Our glee club was the 'New Directions', or, as Sam called it, 'Nude Erections'. We placed at Nationals once when I was in school, but they didn't win until Blaine was a student. I think they won his senior year, maybe junior too." "He is talented…" Rachel mused as they boarded the subway train for home.

* * *

Friday afternoon found Rachel and Noah waiting expectantly outside of a Chinese restaurant near the theater district. "Calm down, Noah," Rachel gently admonished him, touching him on the forearm. "They'll be here soon." "Yeah, I know," he replied. "I just…well, I haven't seen her in two years and…I mean, she's my daughter, but she's _not_ my daughter…" "You enabled her to have a great life when you were ill-equipped to provide one for her," Rachel reminded him, "and when she reached out to you, you were there for her. Don't worry, Noah, it'll be fine." They kissed, and he held Rachel tightly to his side as they awaited the visitors.

Shortly thereafter, a couple who looked to be in their early 40s appeared down the block, accompanied by a teenage girl. As they grew closer, the girl spotted them and broke free from the adults, sprinting down the sidewalk until she held Noah in a firm embrace. She was a pretty girl: fair-complected, about 5'6", with medium brown wavy hair and intense hazel eyes that Rachel instantly recognized. "BD, it's great to see you!" she exclaimed, looking up at Noah. "Good to see you too, kiddo," he replied, hugging her back. "Welcome to New York." The girl glanced at Rachel curiously, inquiring, "Who're you? Who is she, BD?"

"Rachel, this is Beth Madison, my biological daughter; Beth, this is Rachel Berry, my girlfriend." Beth's mouth dropped open, her eyes popping with astonishment. "_O. M. G_. Rachel Berry, the _Broadway star_? Wow!" she cried out. "I never thought I'd actually get to _meet_ you! Thank you for the tickets, Rachel! Everybody is _totally stoked_ to see the show!"

Rachel chuckled at her ebullient response, humbly responding, "It's nice to meet you, too, Beth, and you're welcome. I appreciate the compliment, but I'm not exactly a 'Broadway star', just a fortunate working actress."

"_Working actress_?" Beth interjected, "You're like, totally the most famous person to come from Shaker Heights since, like, Paul Newman." Rachel, who was now laughing, responded, "If I'm the second-most famous person from Shaker Heights, Ohio, that _really_ says a lot about the city…or maybe not so much." As they were all laughing, Beth's parents finally approached.

"Rachel, these are Bruce and Elise Madison, Beth's parents," Noah began the introductions. "Elise and Bruce, this is my girlfriend, Rachel Berry." Rachel greeted them, and, noticing the obvious, added, "Congratulations on your new baby." "Thanks," Elise replied. "This is pretty much our little miracle," she began, gently touching her rounded abdomen. "We tried for a long time to have a baby, and eventually we were told that we couldn't conceive; we were blessed to adopt Beth. Obviously, nature had a surprise in store for us." "Yeah, I'm gonna be a big sister," Beth remarked, "just in time to graduate and go away to college." "Graduate?" her father jokingly interjected, "You're only a sophomore. You'll be around for at least two more years, so don't go packing up just yet." "Yes, Daddy," she acquiesced. "See what I put up with?" she teased.

* * *

After an enjoyable meal, the Madisons left to rejoin their group and Noah and Rachel had some time to themselves before she had to arrive at the theater. They walked through the downtown streets, window shopping and people-watching.

"She's a lovely girl, Noah," Rachel softly commented. "Thanks; yeah, she is," he wistfully agreed. "I can't help myself, though," he mused, "I'll always wonder how it would have been if I could've kept her." "You can't go there, Noah," Rachel advised. "She has parents who obviously adore her and she seems well-adjusted and happy, all because you were willing to sacrifice what you wanted so she could have a better life than a couple of teenagers could provide." "You're right," he acquiesced, "especially when those teenagers could barely stand each other."

"Are you going to their performance tomorrow?" Rachel inquired. "Yeah, I don't have to work until late; would you like to join me?" "I'd love to, Noah, but I have the Saturday matinee," she replied. "Since I took off last Saturday night, I hate to miss either performance this weekend." "I can appreciate that, Rachel," he admitted," "I understand how important this production is to you." Rachel smiled, replying "Thank you, Noah".

After they had walked a little further, Rachel continued, "When I met with my vocal coach this week, she recommended that I cut back to give my voice a rest. I'm going to talk with the director and see if Summer can take one of the slower nights and possibly alternate Saturday matinees." "Sounds like a great idea, Rach," Noah concurred. "I've been wrapped up in the play since I took over the role," she explained, "and being with you has reminded me that I'm entitled to a life, too." "Glad I could help," he remarked with a grin, drawing her in for a kiss, which she happily returned.

"By the way," Noah interjected, changing the subject as they walked along, "I've ordered a couple of things for Maisie; they should come in next week." "That's so thoughtful, Noah," Rachel acknowledged, "but you didn't have to." "Yeah, I kinda did…" he teased. "I picked up a bed and a dish stand for my place. Now we can be together there, too." "Oh, Noah!" she sighed, embracing him in the process. The consideration he had shown toward her dog proved that he was vested in the relationship, and the last of Rachel's reservations melted away. Past bad relationships faded into oblivion, and as they stood on a street corner in downtown Manhattan, Rachel Berry realized that, come what may, she was in love with Noah Puckerman.

They reached the theater with plenty of time to spare, and Rachel invited Noah back to her dressing room. "Contrary to Beth's estimation, this is not the 'Star dressing room'," Rachel commented. "Faye has that." Upon entering the small room, Rachel immediately noticed two bouquets of flowers on her dressing table. There was an arrangement of red carnations with a card "_Only the state flower is good enough for Ohio's favorite star. Thank you for the tickets_", signed by all of the choir members, their coach, accompanists, and chaperones. "This was so sweet of them," she mused, admiring the bright display.

Rachel then turned her attention to the second one: a dozen red-tipped yellow roses from Noah. He had written on the card: "_Rachel:_ _The florist told me that these roses symbolize both friendship and falling in love, and the name of the variety is 'Perfect Moment'. You're not only a great friend, Rachel - I'm falling in love with you. All of our moments may not be perfect, but I wouldn't have them any other way. XOXO, Noah_". Joyful tears ran down her cheeks as she turned to face him. "Do you really mean this, Noah?" she quietly asked, holding the card out to him. "Every word," he tenderly replied, stepping closer to brush away her tears. "Oh, Noah," she softly moaned as they embraced and began kissing, at first chastely, then quickly escalating in intensity.

Rachel pulled away a bit before passion took over and there was no turning back. "Noise carries here," she advised. "That's OK," he acquiesced, stroking her hair, "this'll keep 'til later." "Noah, I have to start 'getting green' now," she advised him. "All right, I'll go find my seat," he decided. "I'll meet you after the show." "Thank you for the roses, Noah; they're magnificent," she confirmed. "Only the best for you, Baby," he replied with a wink. They kissed once again, and Noah left her alone to begin the lengthy process of transforming into 'Elphaba' and warming up her voice for the evening performance.

* * *

**Author's Note**: The "Raiders" is the team name at Shaker Heights High School; the "Vocal Raiders" is a made-up name for purposes of the story. Thanks to the guest who pointed out my earlier mistake; either I copied the name down incorrectly or simply couldn't read my handwriting. ;-)

So as not to be confusing with the "winning Nationals" thing, Rachel is still a year ahead of Blaine, so her junior year would have been Blaine's sophomore year, and his junior year the New Directions won, beating the Vocal Raiders in what was Rachel's senior year. ;-)

Also, one may assume that Beth's parents thanked Rachel during lunch. :-)


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

As April evolved into May, spring was on the way to "becoming the summer". Days were warmer and growing longer, spring flowers were fading away to make way for summer blooms, and it seemed as though everybody wanted to be outside after their winter hibernation.

Blaine had been hired as "Fiyero", and he and Rachel were having a grand time working together again. They had great onstage chemistry because of their long-standing friendship, and (unbeknownst to Rachel) Noah could breathe a small sigh of relief knowing that his girlfriend's leading man was gay.

Rachel's and Noah's feelings grew with each passing day. Sure, there were disagreements; no relationship is without road bumps. For instance, one afternoon they attended a baseball game where several of the women present were apparently former "booty calls" (of Noah's); although he politely declined, two of them not-so-subtly slipped their phone numbers to him while looking disdainfully at Rachel. Discarding the offending information immediately did little to appease Rachel, who felt slighted that he accepted their offerings rather than deferring to her as his girlfriend and politely but firmly rejecting them upfront. Then, there was the time that Rachel all but ignored him when a group of fans spotted them in a restaurant and she did little to dissuade their attention, playing the "star card" and considering their feelings ahead of his.

Still and all, most of their issues were short-lived and successfully resolved. Both of them were happy in the relationship and, although it hadn't been discussed, both were looking toward the future, weighing out next steps, considering theirs to be a long-term partnership.

It was a lovely May evening; the theater was full and the audience enthusiastic. Rachel had completed "Defying Gravity" and was currently resting offstage between acts, sipping lemon water and readying herself for the costume change prior to her next entrance. The stage manager approached her with a note: "Rachel, this guy asked for you and said you should call…said it was kinda important." She glanced at the piece of paper, which read "_Sam Evans 555 678-3123_". Rachel gasped and her heart began racing; Sam had never called before, so it must…oh no, it can't be… Rachel asked for a telephone and the man lent her his cell phone. Hands shaking, Rachel placed the call.

"Hello?" Sam answered. "Sam, it's Rachel Berry. Is everything OK?" she asked, trying hard to remain composed. "Rachel, there's been an accident…" Rachel audibly gasped, and, although her instinct was to break out sobbing, she remained relatively composed, if for no other reason than to keep her makeup intact. She took a deep breath. "Sam," she pleaded, "please tell me what happened."

"There was a big warehouse fire in Queens," Sam began. "They called in additional trucks for backup; ours was one of them." "Go on," Rachel encouraged. "They thought somebody was trapped on the second floor, and Puck was on his way up when the steps gave way," Sam described the accident. "Oh my G-d," she quietly interjected. "What happened? Is he OK?" "They just came back with the X-ray results; he's very lucky," Sam confided. "His left arm's broken pretty bad, he cracked a couple 'a ribs, and his left leg's broken, too. There was some smoke inhalation and they think he may have a concussion. We're still waiting on a CAT scan for his head."

Rachel thought briefly before asking, "Will he need surgery?" "For his arm, yeah," Sam admitted, "the leg will need to be immobilized until it heals. He's in the ER right now. He's pretty drugged-up, so he's kinda out of it; I'm here, and Artie's with him." "I'll be there as soon as the show is over," Rachel confirmed. "OK, we're at New York Hospital Queens. Ask for Artie Abrams; he'll take care of you." "Thanks, Sam," she replied somberly, "I'll see you soon."

"Thanks, Ben," Rachel said, handing the phone back to the stage manager, who was looking concernedly at her. "I assume you heard?" "Yeah, I'm sorry. Anything I can do?" he asked. "Yes, thank you," she replied. "I would appreciate it if you would arrange to have a taxi waiting for me when the show is over…and please make sure it's away from the stage door." "I'll take care of it, Rachel," he confirmed. "And…please let Summer know that she'll be performing tomorrow night," she added as an afterthought. "Sure, Rachel; I'll tell her," he promised.

Rachel sat dumbfounded in the chair. What if it was worse than Sam had let on? What if the head injury was more severe than they anticipated? Was he in a lot of pain? Her head was spinning as these thoughts swirled in her brain. All she wanted to do was to run out now, but she knew that it would be unfair to the audience; after all, "the show must go on".

"Rach," Blaine tapped her on the shoulder, "don't you need to get changed?" She looked at him distractedly, answering, "Yeah, Blaine, you're right." As she stood up, he noticed her hand trembling. "Rachel, honey, what's wrong?" he concernedly asked. "_Oh, Blaine_, she moaned, trying again not to cry, "Noah's been in an accident." "Is he OK, Rachel?" he queried. "Sam said he needs to have surgery. Oh, Blaine," she moaned, holding back her tears, "I want to be there, now, but I can't leave until the show's over."

"I'm sure he's in excellent hands, Rachel," Blaine reassured her, "and you know I'm here for you." "Thank you, Blaine," she replied, giving him a careful hug (so as not to muss their costumes or makeup). "Any time, Rach," he avowed. With a heavy heart, Rachel hastily entered her dressing room, where her dresser assisted her in the costume change.

Rachel went through the rest of the performance on auto-pilot. For the sake of the audience, she tried to stay "in the moment", but her mind kept sliding back to the man she loved, lying in pain in a hospital bed. Blaine would give her hand a gentle squeeze when he could, as if to assure her that everything was going to be alright. Rachel breathed a sigh of relief as the last scene ended and the cast took their curtain calls. Performance complete, Rachel made a beeline for her dressing room, quickly stripping off her costume and wig and donning her street clothes. Removing her makeup could wait; her main concern was to get to the hospital without being detained by fans. She picked up her tote bag (purse inside), shut off the light, and sought out the stage manager, who would guide her to where the cab was waiting.

Rachel gave the directions to the cab driver; if he was taken aback by his green passenger, he gave no indication. She called Larry (the dog walker), explaining the situation, and asking if he would walk the dog that evening and stop by in the morning to do the same thing. As she was going to call Sam, her phone "pinged", indicating she had received a text message. Apparently, Santana had learned what happened from Kurt (who had been filled in by Blaine), and she volunteered to spend the night so Maisie would not be alone. Rachel gratefully accepted her help, told her she would text when there was any news, and was finally able to call Sam, informing him she would be at the hospital in 20 minutes.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

As soon as the cab pulled up in front of the hospital emergency entrance, Rachel bolted out, tote bag in hand. She paid the driver and, ignoring the incredulous stares of the guards, medical staff and incoming patients, placed her bag on the conveyor belt to check for contraband, removed it from the other side, and walked quickly to the main desk.

"Excuse me," she asked politely, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed by everyone's reactions, "I was told to ask for Artie Abrams. Please tell him that Rachel Berry is here." "Rachel Berry?" the woman repeated," "OMG, I saw you in 'Wicked'. You were great, Ms. Berry; may I have your autograph?" Rachel smiled as graciously as she could under the circumstances. "I'll be happy to do that for you, later; I'm a little pressed for time right now…" She saw Artie rolling up out of the corner of her eye and continued "Thank you for the compliment; I'm so glad you enjoyed the show. If you'll please excuse me…"

"Rachel?" Artie hesitantly asked. "Yes, Artie, it's me," she assured him, touching him gently on the shoulder. "Whoa; when Puck said you were starring in 'Wicked', he wasn't kidding." "No, he wasn't," she agreed. "As you can see, I came right from work. After I've seen Noah, perhaps you can show me where I can 'de-greenify' myself." "Um, sure Rachel," he complied. "Please come with me, and I'll take you to your brave firefighter."

Rachel followed Artie through a maze of beds, equipment, chairs, gurneys, and unfortunately sick or injured people, most of them staring at her unabashedly as she hurriedly passed. They eventually stopped at one of the pseudo-rooms where the curtains were completely drawn. "Go on in, Rachel," Artie quietly instructed, "Puck's in there." "Thank you Artie," Rachel gratefully acknowledged, kissing him on the cheek, and then inspecting to make sure there were no traces of green left behind. She drew the curtains back a bit to gain entrance to the space, closing them immediately afterward to ensure privacy. Noah was lying on the bed, either sleeping or unconscious, his handsome face etched with pain. True to his word, Sam Evans was seated nearby.

"He keeps going in and out," Sam explained in a hushed voice. "Have they taken him for a CAT scan?" she asked, using a similar tone. "Yeah; just got the results, and there isn't any apparent damage. He's too hard-headed for that," Sam confirmed with a rueful smile. "That's a relief," Rachel agreed. "Has the surgery been scheduled, yet?" she inquired. "Yeah, they're taking him within the hour;" Sam confirmed, "I think they said they were prepping for it right now."

Rachel approached the bed and took Noah's hand in hers. His eyelids fluttered, and he opened his eyes, looking at her groggily. "Rach?" he hoarsely asked. "Yes, Noah, it's me," she verified her presence. Sam quietly exited the space to give the couple some privacy. "You're green," he commented, smiling weakly. "Yes, at the moment I am, Noah," she replied lightly, holding back her tears. "You're so beautiful, you could even be purple," he teased drowsily. "Thank you, Noah," she conceded.

Rachel tried to pull up a chair, but Noah refused to let go of her hand as he gazed up at her. "Don't leave me, Rach," he pleaded. "I won't, Noah," she assured him, smoothing back his hair with her free hand. "I'll be here as long as you want me to be." "Then you'll never leave," he admitted. "I love you, Rachel," he quietly confessed before closing his eyes. "I love you too, Noah", she whispered, kissing his forehead as the tears began running down her cheeks, forming green droplets on the bed sheet.

It was only a matter of minutes before the nurse arrived to begin adding the anesthesia to his IV. She looked curiously at Rachel, observing her unusual complexion, before explaining that "They'll be here shortly to take him for surgery." "Thank you for letting me know," Rachel replied. She held tightly to his hand until the team came to transfer him to the gurney that would transport him to the surgical area. The movement awakened him slightly, and he made eye contact with Rachel. Instinctively, she lowered her head. He whispered, "Don't cry, Baby. No one can keep this badass down for long." She kissed him gently on the lips, and he smiled in response. He squeezed her hand before letting go as the gurney rolled away.

Both Sam and Artie approached Rachel at once. "You two have been wonderful," Rachel gratefully acknowledged, "but you need to go home to your families. I'll be fine." "I talked to Britt, and she already got a sitter," Sam confided. "She should be here shortly." "That's so kind of her, but it's really not necessary," Rachel protested. "Rachel, Britt and I have known Puck since we were kids," he explained. "We wouldn't be anywhere else." "I'll stay until Brittany gets here," Artie confirmed. "I'll have to head for home, then, though. Kitty's having cravings, and if I don't bring her some egg rolls, she'll have my head on a platter," he joked, trying his best to lighten the somber mood.

"You two are amazing friends," Rachel averred. "Artie, I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know where I can clean up," she requested, momentarily changing the subject, "before I turn everything green." "Sure, Rachel, follow me," he instructed. He led Rachel to a restroom that was a distance from the ER. "This bathroom isn't used often," he explained, "so you won't be interrupted, and you won't keep anybody else from going to the toilet. I'll let maintenance know that they'll have to clean up when you're done." "Thanks, Artie," Rachel replied, entering the bathroom to begin the process of removing 'Elphaba' for the night.

When Rachel emerged, her face was scrubbed clean and sans makeup, and her hair had been fashioned into a simple braid hanging down her back. She texted Santana, confirming that she was going to spend the night at the hospital, and that she would provide a full report in the morning. Communication completed, she asked one of the hospital staff where the surgical waiting area was, and they were kind enough to escort her. She found Sam and Brittany sitting together, holding hands. Upon catching sight of her, Brittany stood up, walked quickly over, and embraced Rachel. "He's gonna be fine, Rachel," Brittany told her. "I know, Brittany. Thank you for being here," Rachel replied, grateful for the company.

Embarrassingly, shortly after Rachel sat down, her stomach rumbled. "Excuse me," she apologized, blushing. "When's the last time you ate, Rachel?" Brittany asked concernedly. "Around 4:00 this afternoon," Rachel admitted. "You must be starving!" Brittany exclaimed. "Come on, let's get you something to eat; Sam will let us know if there's any news." "I hate to leave," Rachel protested, but Brittany would have none of it. "Nonsense; you have to eat." She turned to her husband and kissed him. "Sammy, we'll be back shortly; please text me with any news." "I will, honey," he agreed, and the two women left to find Rachel some sustenance.

Although Rachel was hungry, she felt too distraught to eat much. She purchased a bagel and some natural peanut butter, and both she and Brittany got a cup of coffee. They found a table and sat down so Rachel could eat her snack away from the surgical waiting room. "Brittany, how many children do you and Sam have?" Rachel asked as she sipped her coffee. "Two little girls: Daisy's six and Violet's three…I love gardening," she explained with a smile and a teasing shrug. "Sammy wants to try for a little boy…maybe we can be pregnant together, Rachel," Brittany suggested. Rachel was quite taken aback, avowing "Brittany, I'm not planning to have a baby any time soon; where did you ever get that idea?"

"You look at Puck like he hung the moon and stars, and, when he looks at you, there's not another woman in the room," Brittany observed, to which Rachel reacted by blushing deeply, and Brittany smiled in return. "I'm very intuitive about these things, Rachel," she stated matter-of-factly, nodding her head. The women sipped their coffee, momentarily lost in their own thoughts until Brittany spoke up again. "I've known Puck most of my life, and he's a great guy, but he's been hurt a lot," she explained. "He built a wall around himself and learned to use women for sex from the town cougars who exploited him when he was too young to know any better."

She looked at Rachel knowingly, continuing, "He was the 'dirty little secret' of the girls in school so they could brag they'd been 'fucked by Puck', but they would never have considered dating him. The women he hooked up with over the years were usually after the same thing he was: consensual, meaningless sex. You know, you look for what you think you deserve; that's all he believed he was good for, so he convinced himself that's all he wanted." Brittany paused to take a sip of coffee and Rachel continued eating her bagel, listening intently to a new perspective on her boyfriend.

"You genuinely care about him, and that allowed him to care about you, too. You appreciate him for the good person he is." Brittany smiled and reached over the table, covering Rachel's hand with her own. "Sammy said he's never seen Puck so happy. Thank you for making my friend happy, Rachel." "I love him, Brittany," Rachel admitted simply, "with all my heart. I pray he makes a complete recovery." "He will, Rachel, I promise," Brittany replied.

Conversation quickly shifted to more superficial topics as Rachel finished her bagel. They picked up fresh coffee for themselves and another for Sam before heading back to the waiting room. Drinking their coffee in tense silence, they awaited the surgeon's report.

An African-American woman in green hospital scrubs approached them; "Are you here for Lieutenant Puckerman?" she asked. All three nodded in unison. "I'm Dr. Jones," she introduced herself, "and I'm part of the surgical team that operated on the Lieutenant." "How is he?" Rachel asked, her voice laden with concern. "He's in recovery right now," she confirmed, "He's sleeping off the anesthesia, but we did talk to him after the procedure was completed." She looked pointedly at Rachel, who didn't understand the expression on the doctor's face. "The leg fracture was clean and only required a cast. The arm was more serious and the bones needed to be pinned back together in order to heal properly." "And his ribs?" Sam inquired. "The fractures will heal on their own with proper rest," she explained.

"How long will he need to stay in the hospital?" Rachel questioned the doctor. "That depends on the Lieutenant," she explained. He'll be put in a room for observation now and we'll evaluate how he's doing in the morning. They'll get him up and moving around a bit and evaluate whether or not he can go home or will need to stay until tomorrow. By the way, are you Rachel?" the doctor inquired, smiling at Rachel, who nodded her head in answer. "He asked for you. He also wanted to know, and I'm paraphrasing, of course, how long it would be before he could resume having 'relations'." "Doctor, I'm so sorry," Rachel apologized, embarrassed by the question. "Don't worry, hon, we get that all the time," she reassured Rachel. She smiled impishly, continuing, "Just in case you're interested, he was told it varies from patient to patient; on average from six to eight weeks." As Sam and Brittany chuckled, Rachel's complexion flared crimson and she averted her eyes.

"If you'd like," the doctor offered, "you may go up to his room. I anticipate he'll be moved there shortly." "Thanks, doctor, we'd appreciate that," Sam acknowledged. "If you'll excuse me, I'll see that you have an escort," she offered, and left the waiting room. Rachel excused herself to go to the ladies room, and Brittany accompanied her. After "addressing nature", Rachel removed a toothbrush and toothpaste from her tote and began brushing her teeth in front of a bemused Brittany. "You'd be surprised what I carry in here," Rachel commented, nodding toward her tote. "I always brush my teeth between shows."

They reconnected with Sam, who by that time had secured an orderly to escort them to the room. Twisting and turning through a labyrinth of corridors, an elevator, and then more hallways, they found themselves in room 672 in the surgical recovery unit. Within five minutes, Noah was wheeled in on a gurney, groggy from a combination of the pain meds in his IV cocktail and the anesthesia that was slowly wearing off. As he was transferred to his bed, he was temporarily roused from his drug-induced slumber.

"Hey, Baby…Hi, Guys," he weekly called out, smiling as best he could. Rachel approached and took his right hand, sliding hers gently underneath his so as not to disturb the IV needle. "Hello, yourself, Noah," she tenderly replied. "Glad to see you're OK, Puck," Sam commented.

"Thanks for stayin', guys; I 'preciate it," Noah acknowledged groggily. "You should go; it must be late…what about the girls?" Brittany smiled and replied, "In the first place, no thanks are necessary, we wouldn't be anywhere else. In the second place, the girls are with their Auntie Stacie, so you needn't worry."

"…And in the third place," Sam chimed in, "now that we can see you're goin' to be OK, we'll be heading out. Rachel, can we drop you at home?" he volunteered. "You should go too, Rach," Noah suggested. "Get some sleep." Noah looked at Rachel, their eyes meeting momentarily, and she smiled softly. "Thanks, Sam," she replied, "I appreciate it, but I'm going to stay with Noah tonight. Don't worry, I'll be fine…we both will," she avowed. Rachel hugged Sam and Brittany (in turn), and, as the couple returned home to their family and their own bed, Rachel tended to Noah's needs.

Rachel left the room and approached the nurses' station. She returned shortly with a Styrofoam cup full of ice chips. "The nurse suggested you start off with this," she said, presenting him some of the ice on a spoon as if she was feeding him ice cream. "If you feel ok, we can try a popsicle or something else next." Noah took the spoonful of ice chips and let them melt in his mouth, after which he whispered, "Thank you, Baby." Rachel gently smiled and was prepared to repeat the process when Noah stopped her.

"Rach, would you do me a favor and send a nurse in here, please?" Noah quietly inquired. "Sure, Noah, let me just press…" "No," he insisted, "get yourself a coffee or a candy bar or something, and please send someone in. I'll be done by the time you're back." Rachel was sleep-deprived and a little hungry, so it took her a minute to understand what Noah was requesting: he needed to go to the bathroom and didn't want her to witness his first attempt out of bed. Rachel smiled gently, leaned over, and kissed Noah on the cheek. "OK, I'll see you in about 15 minutes." She exited the room, returning to the desk to ask for assistance. She waited patiently until a nurse entered the room, and she temporarily left the area, giving Noah his requested privacy.

When Rachel returned, she found Noah sipping the ice water from a straw that the nurse had apparently provided. "Are you feeling better?" she inquired. "Yeah, Baby. I'm so tired, though," he explained through a yawn. Rachel took the cup from him and placed in on the tray. She fluffed up his pillows, encouraging him to "Rest, now." He patted the bed next to him, suggesting, "Climb in here with me." Rachel giggled, replying, "Noah, you just had surgery. I don't want to jostle the bed; besides, what would the nurses think?"

"They'd think you were lucky to be in bed with a stud like me, that's what," he teased back. "No, Noah; thank you for the offer, but I'd better take a rain check," she declined. Noah considered the situation momentarily. "OK, then, pull your chair up closer, and lay your head down over here," he suggested, patting the mattress with his right hand. Rachel sighed; she knew he wouldn't be satisfied until she complied, and she figured he'd be asleep shortly, and she would move away. She moved her chair next to the bed, crossed her hands, and set her head down on top of them, her face turned toward Noah. "Sleep now, Noah," she whispered. He began stroking her hair, and in a matter of minutes, both of them were out like a light.

Noah began rousing a few hours later. The fog of anesthesia was leaving his brain, and the waning effects of the pain meds reminded him all too clearly of yesterday's ordeal. He smiled at the sound of Rachel's gentle breathing, and he picked up her braid, gently stroking it with his thumb so as not to waken her. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he became cognizant of another figure seated in the room…one with arms crossed and lips tightly pressed together. It took a moment for the recognition to sink in. "Ma, what are you doing here?"


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"What am _I_ doing here?" she quietly responded, obviously displeased. "My son is injured, in the line of duty, no less, and he asks what am _I_ doing here?" Mrs. Puckerman paused for dramatic effect before continuing, "Samuel called me, Noah. I got the first flight out and rented a car so I could be here to help you. And all you can say is 'what are you doing here?'" She looked cautiously at Rachel, still asleep. "What _I'd_ like to know is who is _she_ and what is _she_ doing here?"

"Oh, yeah," Noah hesitantly (and quietly) replied, smiling sleepily albeit contentedly, "this is Rachel." "And who may I ask is Rachel?" she indignantly queried. Noah paused for a moment; he realized once he confessed, there was no going back. "She's my girlfriend, Ma."

"_Girlfriend_?! Why haven't _I_ heard about this? Must you keep _everything_ from your mother? How long has this been going on? Is she _Jewish_?" she rattled off a litany of questions, her left eyebrow cocking at the last one, and Noah could see by her expression that she was only warming up. "Shhh!" he admonished her, "Let her sleep, Ma. She came straight from work and she's exhausted."

Deborah Puckerman was taken aback by her only son's defense of this stranger. She knew he had a steady stream of sluts and floozies, since…well, as far back as she could remember, and probably before that. She had met one or two when she was visiting and his band performed; they tended toward statuesque and were apparently artificial from the tip of their head on down, be it hair color, eyelashes, faux tan, surgically enhanced breasts, or G-d knows what else. He had never introduced any of them as "girlfriend", let alone "friend", and it was clear to her, to use the vernacular of the times, they were nothing more than "booty calls".

In the pre-dawn light, it was apparent that this woman was not tall and not blonde. Given the size of the body currently occupying the chair, she doubted that the girl was carrying around breasts the size of Mt. Everest. Based on her son's preferences, she wondered what kind of hold this mystery woman held over her son, unless…"Noah, did you get this girl pregnant?" she whispered indignantly.

Noah chuckled quietly, wincing at the pain in his side and now understanding what "it only hurts when I laugh" truly meant. "No, Ma, she's _not_ pregnant," he confirmed. "We met about a month ago and, well…things happened and we kinda clicked, ya' know?" Although Deborah was pleased that his son had met somebody who'd lasted longer than a night, her head was now buzzing with questions. "If you've known her a month, mister smarty-pants, I'd like to know why you have ever-so-conveniently forgotten to share this with me," she began her cross-examination.

"Ma, I'm almost 32 years old," he exasperatedly whispered. "There's lots I don't share with you…or _anybody_, for that matter." Deborah frowned; it was clear that her son, even in his semi-medicated state, was not ready to 'come clean'. "And pray tell, then, when were you planning on telling me about this…this…" she gestured around the room, "little _incident_?" He grinned slowly, replying, "Not 'till I was home and feeling better, if ya' must know. I didn't want to worry you."

"_Worry me_?" she agitatedly, (quietly) replied, "not only am I your mother, I'm a nurse. I can actually _help_ you. And as for worrying…" she paused, looking testily at him, "that's a mother's prerogative, something, I assume, your little friend over there knows nothing about."

"Cut the guilt trip, Ma, it doesn't work any more," Noah advised her calmly. "And as for 'a mother's prerogative', I'd suggest you can the attitude, too, or when she _is_ a mother…" Noah, realizing that he had revealed far more than intended, immediately stopped talking. "Go on," she goaded him, "finish what you were going to say."

"Nothing, Ma. I'm sayin' nothing. I've talked too much and I ache all over. Would you mind seeing if they can give me something to take the edge off?" He looked hopefully at his mother, who acquiesced, getting up from her chair to pursue obtaining some relief for her son.

Deborah returned shortly with a nurse in tow. Rather than add to the IV, which would be removed later that morning, the nurse handed him a pill and, seeing as his left hand was temporarily incapacitated, waited until the pill was in his mouth to present him with a fresh cup of water. The movement on the bed and additional noise in the room finally roused Rachel from her brief and less-than-comfortable slumber.

Rachel moved around a bit, stretching her back and picking up her head. Noah looked at her bemusedly, and she smiled shyly. "Good morning, Noah. How are you feeing?" she asked tenderly, lightly stroking his right arm where it rested on the bed. "I've been better," he admitted. Before he could continue the conversation, Deborah cleared her throat.

"Ma, this is my girlfriend, Rachel Berry. Rachel, this is my mother, Deborah Puckerman," he introduced them. Rachel sat up straighter, acknowledging the older woman: "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Puckerman." "You, too, dear," Deborah replied, thinking to herself, "_Rachel Berry, Rachel Berry…where have I heard that name before?_" "How did you two meet, dear?" she inquired, barely covering her intense curiosity at this apparent new addition in her son's life.

"Actually, it's kind of amusing, if you think about it…" Rachel began, but Noah cut her off. "There's plenty of time to get acquainted, later," he interjected. Rachel looked at him curiously and decided not to pursue the matter. "Then if you'll excuse me, I'm going to freshen up," she quietly announced, bending down to take the handle of her tote bag. "I'll be back in a few minutes, Noah," she reminded him, leaning over for a kiss. As she headed out toward the public restroom on the floor, Deborah's eagle eye noticed the light bounce off of Rachel's gold Star of David pendant, and her face broke out in a small, self-satisfied smile.

"She's a tiny little thing, isn't she Noah?" his mother commented, as he looked at her quizzically. "Never mind about that; a couple of babies, and she'll fill out," she stated rhetorically. "Ma, that is about the most absurd thing I've ever heard you say," Noah responded, glaring at his mother. "Rachel is fine exactly as she is," he defended her, "and who said anything about babies, anyway?" Deborah smiled enigmatically, replying, "Why, no one, of course, bubbeleh. I was just making an observation." Noah considered his words carefully before instructing, "Well, going forward, I would appreciate it if you'd keep those observations to yourself, Mother."

By the time Rachel had returned, mother and son were at a conversational impasse, and Rachel could sense tension in the air, which she hoped was not at her expense. "Mrs. Puckerman," Rachel said, softly, serving to announce her presence and immediately (if unwittingly) drawing the attention to herself, "would you like a cup of coffee or tea, maybe a bagel or a muffin? I'd be happy to pick up something for you."

"That would be lovely, dear," Deborah acknowledged her offer, "but why don't I go with you and give Noah a little privacy?" Noah's eyes popped open and he frantically tried to get Rachel's attention. All he needed was his crazy mother pumping Rachel for information and, most likely, mentally measuring her for a wedding dress. "No, Ma, stay and keep me company," he pleaded. "I haven't seen you since Passover. We…we need to catch up…what's going on at Temple? Is Mrs. Mandelbaum still schtupping the mailman?…"

"Noah, stop rambling," his mother spoke up, ending his well-meaning and obviously unsuccessful attempt to curtail her. "I expect somebody will be in shortly to take your vitals and disconnect the IV, and you'll probably need to use the bathroom." She looked at him pointedly. "They'll just kick us out, anyway. And if you must use a Yiddish term, dear, technically, _he's_ the one scthupping _her_."

Rachel suppressed a giggle as she watched the mother/son interaction. It reminded her of conversations she had observed between her fathers and their respective mothers. And as she recalled, her grandmothers always had the last word, and usually, the last laugh.

"Come on, Rachel; let's get some breakfast. You look like you could use a good meal." Rachel's eyebrows puckered in consternation as she considered the odd turn-of-phrase. For Noah's sake, she decided to ignore it and take advantage of the opportunity to become better acquainted. Rachel inserted her tote in the closet/locker and removed a $20 bill, placing it in her pocket and joining Noah's mother in the hallway while he rolled his eyes in anticipation of the grilling he expected that Rachel was going to receive.

* * *

**Author's Note**: "Scthupp" literally means "stuff" in Yiddish. It is often used as a slang term for sexual intercourse.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

It was a long walk to the hospital cafeteria, and required traversing a maze of corridors, an elevator ride, and yet another network of hallways. Deborah decided to begin her interrogation with, "So tell me, Rachel, are a native New Yorker?" Rachel grinned, realizing her answer would not be what was expected. "Actually, Mrs. Puckerman, I grew up in Shaker Heights, Ohio. I moved to New York for college and never left." "_An Ohio girl, that's interesting… Why is her name so familiar…_" Deborah thought.

"Where did you go to school, dear?" Deborah inquired. Rachel politely replied, "I have a BFA from NYU; I majored in Drama at Tisch." "And what do you do, now, Rachel? Are you a drama teacher?" was the next question. "Actually, I've been very fortunate," Rachel humbly stated, "I'm a working actress."

Before the conversation could go any further, they approached the cafeteria and picked up their trays and flatware, getting in line to make their selections. While Deborah made her choices, she kept a surreptitious eye on Rachel as she selected her breakfast: a fruit salad, a container of Greek yogurt, some whole grain toast, natural peanut butter, and coffee. Mrs. Puckerman had convinced herself that Rachel was one of those women who basically starved themselves and was surprised to find that, although her choices were healthy and primarily low-fat, the amount of food was more than adequate. As Rachel was about to pay, Deborah stopped her. "You've been so kind spend the night watching over my son; this is the least I can do," she offered, thrusting a couple of bills into the cashier's hand before Rachel could protest. "Thank you, Mrs. Puckerman, I appreciate it," Rachel graciously acknowledged.

Rachel's cross-examination continued as soon as they had settled themselves in the booth, as Deborah, almost overly-friendly, requested, "Nu, so, Rachel, you were going to tell me how you met my Noah…"

"Well," Rachel began, "we were having an extra matinee performance…" "What show are you in, dear?" Deborah interjected. "'Wicked'," she replied pleasantly, looking Deborah in the eye with a serene smile. "How lucky, dear. Are you in the chorus, or do you have a speaking part?" she inquired. "A speaking part," Rachel deadpanned. Deborah's face immediately brightened. "You must have met Faye Rogers! What's she like to work with? Is she as nice as they say?"

Rachel smiled, thinking "_Here we go again; everybody is just __dying__ to know about Faye Rogers, soap opera legend extraordinaire_." "She's a lovely woman, Mrs. Puckerman, and a consummate professional," Rachel honestly answered. "How exciting!" Deborah exclaimed, "Do you have any scenes with her?" "_Do I have any scenes with her?_" Rachel thought, smirking to herself before calmly replying, "Yes, I do." "How lucky for you, dear," Deborah commented.

"Yes, very," Rachel agreed. "If you'd like," she continued, "I'd be happy to get you a ticket while you're in town. If Faye doesn't have a commitment after the show, perhaps I can arrange for you to meet her." Deborah's face lit up like a menorah on the last night of Chanukah. "Oh, Rachel, do you think you could?" she excitedly queried. "Well, I know I can get you a ticket, I just can't guarantee Faye's schedule," Rachel replied, "but I'll see what I can do."

All thoughts of how her son met Rachel flew out Deborah's head as she contemplated meeting one of her daytime favorites. Even though she worked full time, the staff lounge at the hospital had a TV, and many a lunch break was spent watching soap operas.

"Thank you, Rachel, dear," Deborah accepted the offer. "You're welcome, Mrs. Puckerman…" Before Rachel could complete her sentence, Deborah interjected, "Please, call me 'Debbie'; 'Mrs. Puckerman' was my mother-in-law and, she should rest in peace, but she was such a bitch." Rachel was hard-pressed not to laugh as the pseudo-interview had morphed into a love-fest. "All right, then, Debbie, you're welcome," Rachel politely replied.

At that moment, Deborah's mind (and line of questioning) flipped from "how did they meet and what does she want from him" to "how soon can this woman become my daughter-in-law and how fast can she start popping out grandchildren". She grinned like a Cheshire cat as she proposed, "Rachel, dear, have you given any thought to how many children you'd like to have…"

* * *

By the time they returned to Noah's room, Rachel's head was spinning. They were pleased to find Noah sitting in the chair with his leg propped up, finishing his breakfast and no longer attached to the IV. Deborah excused herself to go to the bathroom and Rachel sat on the now-empty bed.

"How was it, Rach? Has she booked the Temple, yet?" he asked sarcastically. Rachel rolled her eyes, commenting, "Well, she all but challenged me to a kugel bake-off." Noah grinned at that one; his mother took great pride in her lokshen kugel, and he had the feeling that Rachel could give her a run for her money. "And," Rachel continued, "let's just say that I have the distinct impression that she wants to take me wedding dress shopping, and she wouldn't be adverse to the idea of a maternity wedding dress." Noah began laughing, which hurt his ribs and forced him to stop. "Please, Rach," he pleaded, "any more talk like that and I'm gonna fall off this chair and undo what they just did to patch me back together."

"Speaking of which," Rachel aptly changed the subject, "have they given you any indication of when you may leave?" "Yeah, actually, the doc said I can go home this afternoon," he confirmed. "They gave me a cane and I'm doing OK with it, and they'll give me scripts for pain meds and an anti-inflammatory, so I'm 'good to go'." "That's a relief," Rachel confided. "Yeah," he agreed, "but I can't go back to work for at least three weeks and it'll be twice that long before the leg is even remotely healed. I'm gonna go nuts until I figure out how to work out around it."

"Work out?" she exclaimed incredulously, "you've just had surgery and you're seriously considering working out?" "Fuck, yeah," he admitted, "you know how important that is to me. 'Sides, I'll need _something_ to burn off energy 'til we get the green light…" he impishly disclosed, waggling his eyebrows at her. Rachel blushed, dissolving in a fit of giggles. "It's good to hear you laugh," he admitted; "Come 'ere." He crooked his index finger, indicating that Rachel come over to him. She did, leaning over the chair, and he kissed her, teasing entrance to her mouth to deepen the kiss. Rachel obliged, cupping his jaw with one hand while steadying herself with her other hand on the back of the chair.

"Oh, my; am I interrupting something?" Deborah asked, feigning surprise and barely covering her delight as she walked into the room. Although she had (fortunately) missed out on their conversation, she had approached the room in time to see the kiss. Noah and Rachel quickly moved apart, slightly embarrassed that she had caught them in an intimate moment. It was apparent to her that they were naturally coming together; perhaps she wouldn't need to intervene (much) after all.

"Mrs…I mean, Debbie," Rachel corrected herself, standing straighter and smiling brightly, "Noah has just informed me that he'll be released this afternoon." Noah grinned, saying nothing for the moment; he was surprised that his mother had encouraged familiarity so soon and was painfully aware that she would be unrelenting until he put a ring on Rachel's finger. What she _didn't_ realize was that he had already reached that conclusion on his own. He was planning on asking for the ring that his Nana had left for him and which Deborah wore on her right ring finger since her mother's passing.

"That's wonderful, dear!", Deborah exclaimed. "Have they given you a time, yet?" "Not exactly," Noah admitted. "I have to meet with a physical therapist, first; they'll evaluate how I'm doing to make sure that I can get around OK." Deborah nodded her head in approval.

"Rachel, dear," she began, "if you don't have to go home right away, I'll be happy to drop you off later." Noah glanced at Rachel hopefully and took her hand; it was apparent that he didn't want her to leave. "Thank you, Debbie," Rachel gratefully acknowledged, "if it's OK, I'd like to stay with Noah until he's released." Noah and Rachel looked at each other and smiled; Deborah grinned inwardly and mentally began mulling over possible baby names.

"Hey, how's our patient doing?" Brittany cheerily asked, entering the room. "Well, Hi, Debbie!" she warmly greeted Mrs. Puckerman, enveloping her in a big hug, "Sammy told me that he'd called you." Mrs. Puckerman kissed Brittany on the cheek, asking "How are my girls?" "They're fine, Debbie," Brittany answered, "blooming like little flowers, and I'm sure they'll be super-excited to see their 'Bubbe Debbie'." Rachel gave Noah a curious look, silently mouthing "Bubbe Debbie?", and he shrugged his shoulders in reply.

"How are long are you staying, Debbie?" Brittany asked. "My return ticket is for a week from Sunday," she answered; Noah inwardly shuddered, as he realized he would have his mother in his face much longer than he anticipated. "Can ya' really stay away from the hospital that long, Ma?" he questioned her, hoping she would reconsider. "Of course, bubbeleh," she replied, "I straightened that all our on the way to the airport. If need be, I can stay longer," she confided with a smile.

"Well, that's perfect," Rachel commented, looking extremely pleased. "My dads will be in town next weekend; I'll get a block of tickets for the Saturday matinee." She looked at Brittany expectantly, asking "Brittany, would you and Sam like to join us?" Brittany broke out in a beaming smile, replying, "Yes, thank you, Rachel! That would be awesome! I can't _wait_ to see you onstage."

Deborah looked at Rachel curiously; she didn't understand why Brittany would be excited to see what she assumed was a small, secondary role, even if she knew the actor personally. "Rachel, dear, you never did tell me what part you have in the show," she stated, focusing curiously on Rachel. "Oh, I'm sorry, Debbie; I guess it never came up," she apologized, smiling genuinely. "I play 'Elphaba'."

The realization hit Deborah like a ton of bricks. Now she remembered: Rachel Berry, the girl from Ohio who "made good" on Broadway. She had seen her perform on "Live with Kelly and Michael" (again, break time in the staff lounge) when Faye Rogers first took over the role of "Glinda", and the cast had appeared on some of the New York-based talk shows. If she remembered correctly, Rachel had an amazing voice. A talented, _Jewish_, and (relatively) famous daughter-in-law (if she had anything to say about it, that is)…she couldn't _wait_ to see the faces of the Temple Sisterhood ladies (yentas) when she shared _this_ piece of news with them.

"How exciting, Rachel!" Debbie acknowledged. "You must know Faye Rogers extremely well." Rachel smiled, thinking, "_It's always about Faye_…" "Yes, Debbie, we've gotten to know each other over the past months. I truly enjoy working with her." Deborah seemed satisfied with the answer, looking pointedly at her son and changing the topic of conversation: "So, Noah, when did you get a dog? I distinctly remember seeing a rather large dog bed when I dropped off my suitcase…"


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

In the days that followed, Noah reluctantly made peace with his current state, eagerly awaiting the day when he would be free from the shackles of his infirmities as well as the well-meaning (if a bit heavy-handed) attempts by his mother as she attempted to redirect (or so she thought) the course of his life (and increase her potential for grandchildren). By Monday, they had settled into some semblance of a routine; Deborah was marketing, this time picking up some child-friendly treats, because Brittany was stopping by with her two daughters after Daisy finished school.

The buzzer rang and Noah testily called out "Coming…coming", although nobody could actually hear him. He rose, steadied himself, and walked (as best he could) to the door to find out who was outside, and then buzz his guest in. He was extremely happy to see Rachel and Maisie as they approached the opened door. As soon as they entered the apartment, Rachel closed the door, let Maisie off her leash, and the dog quickly ambled over to her bed, settled herself, and looked at the two humans as if to say "_Well, what are you two going to do to amuse me?"_

Noah wrapped Rachel with his good right arm and kissed her…and then again…and again. Rachel smiled as they ended their greeting, softly saying "It's nice to see you too, Noah." He led her over to the sofa and they sat down, Noah propping his injured leg on the nearby ottoman.

"I've missed you woman," he confessed. Rachel giggled, replying, "Noah, I saw you yesterday afternoon." Noah shook his head. "It's not the same thing, Rach. I miss being close to you. I miss waking up next to you. I miss being able to do this…" he grabbed her (as best he could) and kissed her deeply, which she returned, wrapping her arms around his neck, careful not to lean onto him and hurt his mending ribs.

After a moment (or two), Rachel playfully pulled away, teasing, "What would your mother think if she caught us in such a compromising position?" Noah chuckled, answering, "She'd probably toss a bridal magazine in your lap, run out for the nearest rabbi, and see to it that I make an 'honest woman' out of you." He looked at Rachel thoughtfully, continuing, "Seriously, though, Rachel, how would you feel about that?" Rachel looked at Noah curiously, replying, "About what, Noah?"

"Ya' know…getting married," he responded, continuing softly, taking her hand and threading his fingers with hers, "you and me…house, kids…the whole nine yards."

"Are you asking?" she teased, smiling shyly. "Because if you're asking, I would consider accepting." Noah broke out in a huge grin, replying, "Well, let's say for now that I'm testing the waters…I've been thinking about this since before the accident; it kinda intervened…" He took a deep breath and looked at her hopefully.

"Ya' know, I always thought 'variety was the spice of life' and commitment was a four-letter word. When I was running around, I was really 'running on empty'; the past few weeks with you has made that abundantly clear." He paused to look at Rachel, who was hanging onto his every word, her face a combination of surprised and hopeful, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I figured we'd take a vacation to visit your dads, and make sure they were OK with 'us', and then drive down to Lima so you could 'pass inspection'…" Noah grinned, rolling his eyes, and Rachel giggled. He continued, "Although 'breathing', 'female', and 'Jewish' are about her only criteria these days…not necessarily in that order." By this time, Rachel's silent tears had begun tracking down her cheeks, and Noah paused to wipe them away with his right hand.

"Are you sure about this, Noah?" Rachel inquired. "We really haven't known each other that long, and we don't need to take things so fast."

"If this is moving too quickly, Rach, let me know and it won't go any further. Take as long as you need, and know that I'll be here whenever you're ready." Rachel thought for a moment, smiled, and quietly avowed, "I'm ready whenever you are, Noah. Getting married wasn't on my 'radar' when I met you, but I know this is the right step for me, too,"

Noah took a deep breath and smiled broadly, looking deeply into Rachel's eyes. "Obviously, I can't get down on one knee, and we can't 'seal the deal' with anything more than a kiss, but…well, I guess I _am_ asking…Rachel, will you marry me?"

"Oh, yes, Noah, of course I'll marry you," she happily replied, tears flowing freely again. She leaned her head gently on Noah's right shoulder, hands still clasped. "Guess I'll straighten this out with your dads, and then I'll get the ring from Ma," he decided. "OK, then I won't say anything until it's official," she confirmed.

The couple sat in companionable silence, each reflecting on the past few weeks that brought them together. "Santana will get to wear her red dress, after all," she mused aloud. Noah looked at her curiously and she explained, "After our first date, Santana predicted that we'd get married. She told me that she wanted to wear a red dress as my 'Maid of Honor'." Rachel giggled, continuing, "I wonder how much money she and Kurt have riding on this…"

"I'm sure that Chang and Evans have a bet going, too," he added. "Mike said something the first time you stopped by; I guess he could see it even before I could…damn Ninja skills," he teased. Before Rachel could reply, the buzzer went off. Since Deborah had a key, they assumed it was Brittany and her girls. Rachel confirmed that it was, in fact, them, and let them into the building.

Brittany embraced Rachel and introduced her two little girls, who were staring inquisitively at her. "Girls, this is 'Auntie' Rachel; Rachel, this is Daisy," the older girl looked up and tentatively said "Hi". Brittany continued: "And this is Violet." Violet looked shyly at Rachel, still clinging to her mother's leg. "Hello, girls; it's nice to meet you," a bemused Rachel replied. "Well, _this_ is a fine hello," Noah announced from the sofa. The girls broke away from their mother, running to the sofa and stopping abruptly when they saw their "Uncle's" condition.

"It's OK, girls," Brittany reassured them, "just be gentle with 'Uncle' Puck; he had a big 'oopsie' the other day." The girls approached him gingerly, holding out the drawing and card they had made for him. "Daisy drew a picture for 'Uncle' Puck today during art class, and Violet made him a get well card," Brittany explained to Rachel.

Noah accepted his gifts appreciatively, stating, "Well, thank you, guys, these are the _best __gifts __ever_. Rachel, would you mind putting these up on the refrigerator?" Rachel walked over, took the art work from Noah, and entered the kitchen, adhering the drawings to the refrigerator with kitchen magnets. Upon returning to the living room, Maisie raised her head, causing her tags to jingle, and the girls first noticed that there was a dog in the room.

"Doggie!" Violet called out, pointing to the dog excitedly. "Would you like to pet the doggie?" Rachel asked, squatting down so she was eye level with the little girl. She nodded her head and grinned, and Rachel returned to standing, taking her hand. "Would you like to come, too, Daisy?" Rachel inquired of the older child, currently sitting next to Noah on the sofa. "Yeah!" she replied, climbing down. Rachel walked with the girls over to the dog bed.

"This is Maisie," she said, introducing the girls to the dog. They stood a bit back, eager to move forward but afraid to do so without permission. "Maisie would love it if you'd pet her," Rachel explained, smiling. "Stroke her gently, like this," she instructed, stroking the dog's coat in the direction that the fur grew. "Here, honey," she said, taking Violet's hand and guiding it over the dogs coat. Daisy was less shy, and immediately began copying what had been demonstrated.

"She's really soft," Daisy commented. "Yeah," agreed her sister. Rachel sat with the girls and talked quietly with them as they fawned over the dog, who was thoroughly enjoying the attention.

Brittany sat down next to Noah and watched the interaction. "She's gonna make a great mom some day, Puck," Brittany commented. Noah smiled contentedly, contemplating the life he would share with Rachel and the children they would have together. Brittany noticed his expression and smiled to herself; those two were headed for matrimony, she could just feel it. She squeezed Noah's right hand, whispering, "Puck, you picked a good one. I really like her." He grinned, whispering back, "I agree, Britt. I definitely agree."

Deborah arrived back from the market shortly thereafter and was bombarded with cries of "Bubbe Debbie!" and hugs from the Evans children as Rachel and Brittany took the groceries in the kitchen to unpack. Laughingly, Deborah inquired "OK, my 'little Munchkins', who's up for some ice cream?"


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Approximately one year later…

"Thanks again, guys, for the party," Noah acknowledged his fellow firefighters. "Well, it's not every day that one of our own gets his Master's degree _and_ retires from the FDNY," Sam commented. "We're really gonna miss you around here, Puck." "Thanks, Sam, but it's not like we won't see each other any more," Noah replied. "Hell, we've got a gig on Saturday night." "Yeah, I know," Sam admitted, "but it's been cool workin' with my best friend all these years…"

"What are you doing these days, Puck?" Mike inquired. "Well, right after Rachel completed her first year in 'Wicked', her agent approached her with a new project," Noah began. "Seems this guy, Will Scheuster, is developing a musical loosely based on 'Pride and Prejudice'…but contemporary, with a 'Rock' edge. He'd seen Rachel in 'Mama Mia!' and then in 'Wicked', and he thought she would be perfect for 'Liz', the female lead." Noah paused for a moment, and then continued, "Apparently, he was looking for someone to collaborate with on the music, who could also put together the orchestrations. When Rachel heard that, she suggested me."

"Sounds cool, Puck," Mike commented. "It's an awesome opportunity," Noah agreed, "that's for sure; not necessarily what I thought I'd be doing, but definitely a great first step. We just started working on it a couple of weeks ago. He's a good guy and he's got a lot of great ideas. The workshop will probably begin in about six months."

"How does Rachel feel about all this?" Dave asked. "She's excited, of course. She gets to originate a role, herself, and she's really stoked. Of course she's a little concerned about…" Noah heard his wife entering the fire station, and he excused himself to greet her.

"I was wondering what happened to my two favorite girls," he teased, kissing Beth (who was visiting for a few days) on the cheek and Rachel on the mouth. "Wow, honey, you taste _really_ _good_," he commented, licking his lips. Rachel rolled her eyes as Beth explained (with a devilish grin), "We stopped to have lunch at that Kosher deli about a block from here, and Rachel totally devoured a _huge_ corned beef sandwich with a side of coleslaw _and_ a pickle."

"Thanks for outing me, Beth," a displeased (and slightly embarrassed Rachel) commented as Noah chuckled, commenting, "Can't help that 'Little Puck' likes his meat," as he wrapped his left arm around her, gently caressing her prominent "baby bump" with his right hand. "You Puckermans and your dead animals!" Rachel chided. "I was completely happy eating Tofu…" she exasperatedly commented. "Yeah, except you could never keep it down," he reminded her, "and when I grilled that steak, you ate more of it than I did…and you didn't throw up, either."

"I know," she acknowledged with a sigh, "it disgusts me, but the baby seems to like it. I just hope I can drop this weight in time for the workshop." Noah shook his head; to him, Rachel had never looked more beautiful. She definitely had that "pregnancy glow" that he had heard about. Sure, she was carrying a little more weight, but she was seven months pregnant…and her rack was unbelievable. The doctor had already confirmed that for her height, she was well within the normal range (actually at the lower end) and not to worry. If it took a little longer to get back to her pre-pregnancy weight, well…he would definitely enjoy a "curvier" Rachel for as long as it lasted.

"Don't worry about the workshop, Baby," he comforted her. "As long as our little man is healthy, the rest will take care of itself." "Easy for you to say, mister 'six pack abs'," she retorted. "If my butt gets any bigger, it'll need its own zip code." Noah grinned; his hand slipped down slightly, subtly caressing her behind, and he bent down and whispered in her ear, "Honey, like I've been sayin' all along, it's just more cushion for the pushin'."

Rachel shivered involuntarily at his touch and blushed deeply (he still had that impact on her, even after a year together, nine months of that married). She did her best to maintain a stoic countenance and rolled her eyes (again). "Well, don't get too used to it, mister," she confirmed, "because when Rachel Berry walks out on that stage, it will be in a _size 2_."

Noah merely smiled at his wife's comments; after all, Rachel usually accomplished whatever she set her mind to. He had learned long ago that sometimes, silence was the best response. He merely pulled her a little closer and kissed her lightly on the temple. She responded with a soft smile and a contented sigh, wrapping her right arm around his waist in the process, while they continued chatting with Beth and the men at the firehouse.

* * *

It has been said before; life can change on a dime. A year ago, Lieutenant Noah Puckerman, FDNY, was firmly ensconced in a carefully crafted (albeit empty) bachelor's existence. Women were interchangeable, good for a drink, a laugh and a quick fuck, never to be considered again. A chance meeting with a feisty little actress with a big voice and a heart to match created a paradigm shift in the world as he knew it, and he would be forever grateful to the bad wiring that precipitated that life-changing encounter. As he smiled down at his beautiful wife, his hand still resting over where his soon-to-be born son resided, he mentally shredded the rule book that had guided his life from the time he was 14, confident in the knowledge that she was, in fact, the exception to the rule.

* * *

**Author's Notes**: Thanks again, fair readers, for accompanying me on this little journey. What started out as a brief, one-chapter story morphed into this more detailed narrative. It ended up considerably longer than I intended and I hope it was as fun to read as it was to write. Now, on to other adventures…

Also...if you've ever considered rescuing a Greyhound, please do. They need good "forever homes" and they are truly wonderful animals.


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